The Artists
by TheLittleReaderWriter
Summary: Duck and Oliver were childhood best friends torn apart when Duck moved from the Great Western to Sodor. Duck attends the Sodor Academy of The Arts, with little knowledge that he and Oliver will be together again. Oliver begins to attend the Academy, but he goes to school hurt everyday. And Duck's quick to realizes that the bruises aren't accidents at all. (Duck/Oliver)
1. Chapter 1

H

Note: Hey guys! Welcome to The Artists, a story I've been working on for months! Feel free to leave comments, but nothing mean! And be warned: This story contains abuse and minor language! Oh, and mind the font size if it's too big- I couldn't figure  
out how to make it smaller!  
See end of chapter for notes!

Enjoy!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter

Chapter 1 

"Have a good day, sweetie," Duck's mom said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"You too, mum," he replied, before bending down to give the family dog a pat, "see you after school, Train."

Duck shut the door behind him and walked the short distance to the bus stop. He saw two of his close friends there, Thomas and Percy, whose fingers were intertwined. The two had been a couple for a little over a year, and it had taken them both years to even come out to their families and each other. But, their friends, families and school were all very supporting. Thomas and Percy both lived down the street, and they'd all been friends since Duck moved in.

"Hello, Duck," Percy smiled. "How was your summer? Did you see Oliver?"

Duck sighed, thinking of the best friend he left behind. Oliver had been his best friend since he could walk, and then Duck had up and moved away. Duck remembered how weird Oliver had acted a few months prior to the move...like he was hiding something. But, Oliver claimed he was fine, even though the two told each other everything, and Duck clearly didn't believe him.

Duck missed him dearly, and tried to make plans to go visit his friend and home as often as he could.

"Hey, Percy," he greeted back, "no...I didn't get to see him this summer. Hey, Thomas. When's the bus getting here?"

"Should be any minute now," Percy replied, watching Thomas unplug his earbuds and put them in his jacket pocket. He set his guitar down for a brief second, stretched his hand, then picked it up again.

Percy giggled.

"Is your instrument weighing you down, Thomas? Maybe you've shrunk."

Thomas chuckled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe I have, yeah."

Percy smiled and leaned into his boyfriend's side, and then opened one of three notebooks in his hands.

In his hands, Percy held three spiral bound notebooks, each with a different colored cover. He was reading something from one of the notebooks very carefully, eyes narrowed in concentration. He plucked a pencil from his pocket and made a quick mark on the page before putting the utensil away. Percy was short and just a tiny bit chubby, but he had a huge heart. He was sixteen, had short, spiky blonde hair and deep, innocent brown eyes. He had a scarf around his neck, and a bright green jacket with some jeans and some Vans shoes. Thomas watched him intently, fingers bouncing on the handle to the guitar case he was holding. Thomas was short too, but he was a lot thinner than Percy, and was about a head taller. He was also sixteen, about two months older. He had messed up chocolate locks, and deep, royal blue eyes that reminded Duck of the deepest depths of the sea he had always dreamed of visiting. Thomas also wore a blue jacket with a yellow and red outlined number one on it, and nobody had ever seen him without it on. He wore some old jeans and some black and white Converse high tops. He also had some earbuds in his ears, and was tapping out the beat. He loved music more than anybody. Percy, Duck and Thomas all attended Sodor Academy, a high school meant specifically for the arts and other talents. Many of their other friends attended it as well. Percy carried around all those notebooks because he was into the arts of literature. Those notebooks were all full of stories he'd written in class or over the years. But, nobody had ever seen them, except his teachers. Percy was the greatest writer in the school, even better than Edward, who took the same course and was incredibly intelligent. But, still, nobody had ever seen one of Percy's stories. Not even Thomas had read a single word of them, since the only thing he ever read was music. But, Percy was very sweet and also very shy, so he liked putting words down on paper more than saying them to other people, Thomas was in the Musician/Performing group. He was the best guitar player in the school, at the top of his class, and was even one of the best singers. Many girls had huge crushes on him for his looks and abilities, but he brushed them off with a smile and a simple,

"Sorry, I'm taken."

As for Duck, he was the underbelly of the world of the video arts. He was in control of the sound boards, recordings and special effects, and basically anything that had to do with a stage. He was pretty camera shy, so he never really wanted to be seen on camera. He wanted to be known as the one who made things come to life and to the big screen. He worked in the video department with Gordon and James, two over dramatic drama queens who fit the acting course perfectly. He also worked with many others and couldn't name them at once.

He wasn't too sure if he liked Gordon and James or not.

Do it the right way, and do it correctly, he always thought. There were only two ways of doing things, after all.

Suddenly, the bus pulled up and Bertie opened the doors for them.

"Climb on in, boys!" He grinned, "ready for another day?"

"Another day on the set, yeah," Duck replied, "but another day with the two biggest girls in the school? No, I'm not."

Thomas laughed at the reply as he climbed onto the bus. He shoved his instrument under the seat, and immediately put his arm around Percy's shoulders when he sat down next to him. Duck smiled at the sight; he felt so happy for the both of them. Bertie closed the doors, and with a heave, the bus was off to the school. Thomas waved a greeting to Edward, who was sitting at the very back with James, his best friend. Henry and Gordon were in the seat across from theirs, and they were absorbed deep in a conversation, except for Edward, who was absorbed in his book. Up in the front, Lady, Molly and Rosie were all giggling over something, and sneaking looks at Thomas. Percy frowned, snuggling further into his side.

"I don't like how they look at you, Thomas."

Thomas laughed.

"Jealous?"

"O-Of course not!"

Thomas only laughed again.

"Percy, all these girls may love me, but I'll never love them. I love you, and I always will."

Percy smiled and blushed, giggling when Thomas kissed his cheek again.

The bus door opened again, and Donald and Douglas, the Scottish twins stepped on. They were both in the same classes together, as they refused to be separated.

Ever.

Their course was Photography. Since they came from Scotland, they were able to take lots of beautiful pictures, and edit them to make them even better. They traveled back home every summer, so seeing them during the three months off was rare. They also loved to take pictures of trains, as the Island of Sodor was full of them. They both were good kids and often teased each other, but they always stood up for their friends and stood up to their enemies.

"Aye, Dook, good to see ye," Douglas said, as he took a seat.

"Aye," Donald agreed, "good summer?"

"Pretty good," Duck replied, "how was Scotland?"

"Beautiful as always," Donald sighed, "it's good to see home once in awhile."

"Aye," Douglas nodded, "it is."

The twins turned to Percy, who was completely content in Thomas' hold.

"Aye, lad," Douglas said, "yer gonna like this. A new bookstore just opened in town."

Percy's eyes lit up.

"Really?! There is?! Thomas, we have to go see it!"

Thomas laughed, hugging him.

"After school, I promise."

Percy cheered and hugged back.

The bus came to a stop at the school, and Thomas grabbed his guitar from under his seat.

"Ooch, lad, yer still carrying that thing around?" Douglas asked.

"Well, yeah," Thomas replied, lifting the case over his head so it wouldn't hit anybody, "I'm top of the whole music performance group, you know. And I plan to keep it that way."

The bus quickly emptied after that.

Duck rubbed his eyes in annoyance as he listened to James and Gordon argue for the hundredth time. He sighed and spoke into the microphone.

"Can you two shut up, please? We have work to do."

But, neither responded. Duck tried turning on some spotlights to get their attention, but that didn't work, either. He eventually gave up and turned a knob on the sound board that muted Gordon and James' mics. Sliding off his headphones, he stood up, and looked up at the clock. School was over in ten minutes, and he's hardly gotten anything done today. He couldn't get a good grade with those idiots on the stage! But, what was a Great Western to do?

 _Dear mental self_ , Duck thought lamely, _I believe I'm a good person. I work hard, I'm nice to people, I can assemble movie sets and equipment, and I can operate sound boards. For a seventeen year old, I believe I'm a good person. I just hate to work with two idiots, who also happen to be my friends. Dear mental self...what do I do? Dear mental self...I wonder what Oliver's up to._

The bell suddenly rang, and Gordon and James instantly stopped arguing.

"See you tomorrow, Duck!" They called, racing out the door.

Duck rolled his eyes gathered up his stuff, and exited the building. Duck watched Thomas shove his guitar in the back of his mom's car, helped Percy get in the backseat, and shut the door as he got in. The car took off, back to the Billington's house. Duck waved as he saw his mom pull up to the curb, in her green Mustang.

Duck tossed his backpack in the backseat, then climbed in next to his mother.

"Good day, sweetie?" His mother, to who was named Marianne, asked.

"It was okay," Duck replied, propping his feet on the dashboard, "James and Gordon won't stop arguing, still. We've had a whole three months off, and they still can't come to an agreement! I'm sick of it! How am I supposed to get a good grade in Video Arts if those two don't work together?!"

Marianne smiled sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder.

"Don't worry, son. You're a Great Western. I'm sure you'll get it under control."

Duck smiled gratefully, glad for the encouragement.

"Thanks, mum."

Marianne suddenly took notice of her son's dirty shoes on the dashboard of her beloved automobile.

"Montague Pannier, you will get your feet off my dash!"

Duck immediately put his feet on the floor.

"Sorry."

"That's alright, son. But, don't make that a habit."

Marianne twisted the wheel of the car, and Duck looked up at her.

"You missed the turnoff...are we going somewhere?"

Marianne nodded.

"If you don't mind, I wanted to go look at the new bookstore in town. I've heard it's lovely."

Duck grinned.

"I don't mind. I honestly wanna see it myself."

Marianne smiled, glad that her son agreed with her. They pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore ten minutes later, where Marianne shut off the engine and they both stepped out. The bookstore was about three stories high, with about four windows on each level, with a bright sign by the door that said

 **Off The Shelf**

"What a clever name for a bookstore," Marianne said as they approached the door, and Duck held it open for her how any gentlemen would, "I'll bet it's very cute." 

When Duck stepped inside, cute didn't even describe what he saw.

Notes: Hey guys! How'd you like the first chapter? I'll update on a daily basis, if I can! I've liked the idea of Thomas and the rest of the gang attending a school for the arts and all possessing some sort of talent for awhile now...so I put it all in paper! You'll be seeing some old characters appear in some later chapters and a POSSIBLE guest star in future chapters and stories! See you guys later for chapter two!


	2. Chapter 2

NNote: Here's chapter two! I didn't want to keep you guys hanging for too long, so enjoy! I'm gonna take a little break and chapter 3 will be uploaded tomorrow! And again, if the font is too big, I'm sorry!  
Enjoy!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter

Chapter 2 

What could he say it was?

Different?

Eye-Catching?

Jaw-Dropping?

Clever?

Amazing?

Majestic?

Comfortable and roomy?

Above all, what Duck could see was brilliant.

There were shelves that went as high to the ceiling, which were stacked full of books. The room was doing and the floor was made of a golden, gleaming wood, that had a touch of age to it. The shelves were made of oak, and dust glittered through the sun beams shining through the window. A huge, wooden staircase in the back was covered and velvet and led up to the second floor, and right next to it was a huge stone fireplace with a large coffee bar. Even James, who had never appreciated literature, would've found this store to be really cool. Duck looked around for Thomas or Percy, but didn't see either of them.

They probably went home to do homework, he thought.

Marianne walked off to the romance novel section, and Duck walked around, finding himself in the Horror section. He never really liked horror stories, but it was just where he wound up. He picked up the first book he saw, flipped to a random page, and almost gagged at how graphic the content he was reading was. He wandered around some more, eventually finding himself at the Nonfiction section. His golden eyes scanned the spines of all the books, until they landed on one book in particular. His eyes widened as he pulled it off the shelf. It was a thick book, with a old, dusty cover and worn pages.

 _ **The History of The Great Western Railway**_

Duck opened it up and started reading, letting the true facts of his heritage wash over him. He smiled as he read all about trains and schedules and the founding of the railway that he was extremely proud of. Duck turned the book over to see the price, and was surprised when he saw that it was only a bargain price of ten bucks.  
/

"Duck?"

Even his own parents didn't call him by his real name.

Marianne appeared beside him with a book nestled under her arm.

"What do you have there?"

Duck showed it to his mother, and she laughed.

"How much is it?"

"Only ten dollars."

Marianne smiled and pulled out ten dollars from her purse.

"Here, go buy it. I want to look around a little bit more anyway."

Duck happily walked up to the cashier counter and placed the book down. A young teen suddenly came from the back room, and up to the counter. He looked to be about Thomas' age, but Duck was about a head taller than him. He had smooth brown hair, and some bangs laying across his forehead and the ends were hanging off to the side of his forehead. He was a little thin, but he stood straight and had great posture. He had beautiful olive green eyes, and he was wearing the bookstore's uniform. The strange thing about him was that he had a huge bruise on his cheek, and his right eye was red and swollen. The teen stared at him for a long time, eyes big and form tense. Duck swore he saw his cheeks turn red.

"Sorry about that!" The boy finally said, "did you find-"

Suddenly, the two stopped dead and stared at each other, eyes huge. They stood there, analyzing each other for what seemed like hours.

"Wait…" Duck said calmly, heart pounding, "Oliver?!"

His best friend smiled.

"Duck."

Duck raced behind the counter and enveloped him in a strong embrace. Oliver laughed joyfully and hugged back.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" Duck cried excitedly once they separated. "Look at you! God, you've grown!"

Oliver laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, you have, too. I uh...kind of live here now. The Great Western was getting too packed...and that and I kind of got a special request."

"Request?" Duck asked, cocking his head, "what kind of request?"

"I got this letter asking for me to enroll in this special school," Oliver explained, "it was called Sodors Arts or something…"

Duck grabbed his shoulders and shook him excitedly.

"We'll be going to school together!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Duck smirked, leaning against the counter, "can you still draw?"

"Is the Great Western the greatest railway on earth?"

"Are you still good?"

"Best in the district back home."

"So….pretty phenomenal, huh?"

"Exactly."

The two old friends smiled at each other, and Duck suddenly caught sight of the bruise on his face.

"If you don't mind me asking….what happened to your face?"

Oliver's eyes went wide, and he slapped a hand over the bruise.

"Uh...n-nothing...just a little accident, is all…."

"Oh," Duck said quietly, "I hope you'll be okay, then."

Oliver nodded.

"I will be. What course do you take at school? I read they offer a lot of stuff, but they want me to be in Visual."

"I'm in Video Arts," Duck sighed, "with two of the biggest idiots on earth. I try to get SOME work done, and all they do is fight!"

Oliver cocked his head, deciding not to ask who he was even talking about.

"How's Toad?" Duck asked, curious about the well-being of Oliver's little brother.

Oliver smiled.

"He's seven. He'll be eight in a few months. He really misses you."

"I miss him, too."

Duck cocked his head again.

"Hey, Oliver, what time do you have lunch?"

"I have it fifth period. But, I usually go straight to the library. It was always that way, remember?"

"Oh, yes," Duck said, picking up his book and walking toward the door, "I'll see you there."

"Why?" Oliver called after him.

Duck turned and smiled.

"Because I have lunch fifth period, too."

Over at the Billington household, Percy was tucking his homework away into his folder. He often spent his evenings and weekends at Thomas' house, doing homework or just spending time with his boyfriend. He picked up one of his notebooks and started writing again. Thomas shook his head in amusement.

"What're you writing about, Perce?"

"Oh...nothing," came the sly reply.

"Come onnnnnnnn," Thomas whined, "you've been hiding that stuff for years! Lemme see. Please?"

He made his blue eyes go huge and adorable.

Percy shook his head.

"That only works on you, Thomas. I'll stick to my writing and you just stick to your music, okay?"

"Cinders and ashes!" Thomas yelled, throwing his hands up, "you little sneak!"

Percy giggled.

"I'll show you someday, Thomas. I promise."

Thomas nodded, and picked up his guitar. Giving it a quick tune, he started playing the first song that came to his mind. Percy watched and listened intently, and gave a little clap when the final chord rang out.

Thomas smiled, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Perce."

"Boys!" Came the call of Thomas' mother, "dinner time!"

Thomas set down his guitar and opened the door, Percy following him down the stairs. Annie and Clarabel, Thomas' little twin sisters, both jumped up to hug their brother's legs.

"Hi, big brother!" They chorused.

Thomas laughed, and bent down to hug them back.

"Hey, girls."

Annie and Clarabel then hugged Percy, before they all took a seat at the big kitchen table. Thomas' mother brought a big, steaming hot pan of lasagna to the table.

"When will Dad be back?" Thomas asked as he served his little sisters.

"He's taking the engine out for the last run of the night, son," she replied, "he'll be home any minute."

Thomas' mother, whose name was Leslie, smiled at Percy. She knew about her son's relationship, and she approved one hundred percent.

"Percy, dear, did you have a good day at school?"

Percy smiled.

"Yeah. I'm still at the top of my class, Mrs. Billington."

Leslie grinned at him.

"Please, dear, call me Leslie. And congratulations."

Percy only grinned and nodded. The front door suddenly slammed shut, and Thomas' father walked in, wiping coal smudges off his face.

"Dad!" Annie and Clarabel cried, running up to hug him, "you're home!"

Stanley (not the Stanley Thomas hated in the Great Discovery, but I just called his Dad that) smiled and hugged his daughters, before going up and clapping his son on the shoulder.

"Son," he said, "you're gonna love driving around the family engine someday. It's a great shunter."

"That little E2?" Thomas said, cocking his head with a grin, "I'll bet."

"Hello, Percy," Stanley said, not surprised at all by his presence at the dinner table, "good day?"

"Very good, sir. You?"

"Yes, good day."

Stanley reached up and pecked his wife on the cheek, before setting himself down. He grabbed a plate and filled it up with lasagna. The family and Percy all filled up with the dish before Leslie gathered up the dirty dishes.

"It's getting late," Leslie said as she loaded up the dishwasher, "your mother might be wondering where you are, Percy."

"Don't worry," he replied, "she knows that this is the only place I'd ever be."

Leslie smiled, as did everyone else.

Thomas grabbed the car keys from the counter.

"C'mon, Perce. I'll drive you home."

Percy nodded and followed him out to Leslie's little red sedan. It was a brand new car, and the cherry red paint gleaned in the setting sun. Thomas started up the engine, threw the car in reverse, and took off down the road. Thomas drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, and Percy cocked his head.

"You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

Percy reached over to the dashboard and drummed his fingers on it as an imitation.

"That."

Thomas shrugged.

"It's a habit, I guess."

He stopped the car as he pulled up to Percy's house. He and Percy walked up to the door and Percy pulled his house key from out of his pocket.

"Well...goodnight, Thomas."

Thomas smiled and leaned down to kiss him, his boyfriend kissing back.

"Goodnight, Perce. Love you."

"Love you, too! See you at school!"

Thomas walked back to his mom's car and took off down the road again minutes later.

* * *

Notes: Hope you enjoyed chapter two! Chapter three will be uploaded tomorrow if I can, as I'm trying to domore frequent updates. You'll find out more about Oliver and here in a little bit, as well as what Duck plans to do about it. You'll meet some old characters turned new in the next few chapters, as well as some others! Keep watching for updates!

I'm out!


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Here's chapter three, with many more chapters to come! I hope you've all liked this story so far! See end of chapter for notes, and enjoy!

Chapter 3

When Oliver opened the door to his house, he snuck in as quietly as he could. He untied his high tops and set them by the door, and tiptoed to the stairs. He crept up them and opened a door, and took a seat on his little brother's bed. He brushed  
his hand through his hair.  
"Toad," he whispered, shaking him gently, "I'm home."  
Toad's grey eyes opened and immediately went wide at the sight of his brother.  
"Mister Oliver!" He whispered, wrapping his arms around his neck in a bone crushing hug, "I missed you!"  
"I missed you, too," Oliver said quietly, "are...are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"  
Toad nodded.  
"I'm fine. He left me alone."  
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, and tucked his little brother back in bed.  
"Get some sleep, okay? I promise you that I'll make sure he'll leave you alone."  
"Mister Oliver…" Toad whispered, tears shining in his eyes as he hugged his big brother again, "...I-I don't like you getting hurt….stop getting hurt...okay?"  
Oliver shut his eyes and nodded.  
"I will...I'll do my best, anyway."  
Toad nodded and shut his eyes.  
Oliver tiptoed out and shut the door, and was almost to his room when somebody roughly grabbed his arm.  
"Where the hell have you been?" Came the rough voice of his father.  
"Work," Oliver replied shakily, "at the bookstore."  
His drunk father, or Dustin, as his name was, snorted and let go of his arm. Oliver rubbed his arm as it throbbed from the grip. Oliver turned and was about to open his door when he was slammed against it. He hissed in pain as he felt blood run through  
his teeth.  
"You little prick," Dustinsnarled, "think you can escape from me, hmm? Was that our little agreement?"  
Oliver didn't reply, and immediately regretted it when a hand made contact with his cheek and it stung like crazy. He felt the huge bruise under his eye throb in pain.  
"Answer me," Dustingrowled.  
"N-No…" Oliver stammered, "please...you can do whatever you want to me, but leave Toad alone…"  
Dustin scoffed and let his son go.  
"Just go to your room. I already had a rough day and I can't stand to look at you. Just get away from me."  
He stalked off, and Oliver slammed and locked the door behind him. He collapsed against it, burying his face in his hands. Tears cascaded down his cheeks from the pain and humiliation of it all.  
 _For Toad_...he thought, _for my brother_.  
He brightened up quickly though, when he remembered that he had an art project due the next day. Hands shaking, he dug his sketchbook and some colored pencils out from his desk. Taking a seat on his bed, he stared at the page for a long time,  
contemplating what to draw.  
He'd drawn people before. Random people at school. He even had a picture of Thomas playing his guitar, while his earbuds were in.  
Speaking of other people…  
His eyes lit up.  
His pencil quickly glided along the page, his green eyes wide with wonder and dried tears.  
 _Golden eyes...he had golden eyes….they're still the same...even after all these years..._

When Duck walked into school the next day, students were gathered around the art wall, staring at something. Duck walked up to the crowd, wondering what all the commotion was about. Everybody turned to look at him.  
"Uh...hi?" Duck said awkwardly.  
"Duck!" Came Edward's voice, "you're famous now!"  
"What're you talking about?"  
Thomas emerged from the crowd and put a hand on his shoulder.  
"Uh...you might wanna see this."  
Thomas grabbed his arm and pulled him up to the wall, where he pointed to something on the wall.  
Duck looked at it...and his jaw dropped.  
It was a picture...of him.  
Hand drawn.  
It was a picture of him holding the Great Western book he had bought in his hands, open, and he was smiling down at it. He stood in a few rays of light from the windows, and he was leaning on a bookshelf. His eyes were bright and full of amazement.  
"Wha...who…" Duck stammered, "w-who drew this?"  
"We don't know," Percy replied, "do you like it?"  
"It's…" Duck stammered, "it's brilliant."  
He cocked his head, admiring the picture from a different point of view. He wanted to stare at it more, but the bell rang, signaling the passing period. Duck walked with Donald and Douglas to Geometry, Thomas went to his Astronomy class, and Percy  
walked off the English. In math, Duck listened to the teacher drone on and on about shapes and slopes, and other things he didn't really care about. He was happy when the bell rang, so he could get to Tech class.  
But, all he could think about was the drawing.

Hours later, the fifth period bell finally rang, signifying lunch. Duck sat down at a table, and waited for his friends. Emily, one of his few friends that was a girl, came and sat down with her lunch. Duck liked her for many reasons. One, she was  
very smart. Two, she was very kind. And three, unlike most girls, she didn't fangirl or slide to the ground whenever Thomas walked by. Duck liked Emily for many reasons, but those were only a few.  
"Hey, Duck," she said.  
"Hey, Em. Good day?"  
"Math was pretty boring, but yeah, good day so far."  
"You hate math, too, huh?"  
"Who doesn't hate math?" Emily laughed, "I know I always have."  
Duck chuckled.  
"Well….you don't stuck at it at least."  
"Do you want me to tutor you?"  
"No, I've got it."  
"Duck."  
The Great Western held up his hands innocently.  
"I promise, if I need your help, I'll ask."  
Emily nodded, satisfied.  
"Hey!" She suddenly said, "I saw the drawing of you in the art hallway. It was really good!"  
"Yeah…." Duck agreed sheepishly, "it was…"  
"Do you know who drew it? Whoever it was, they're really good!"  
"No...I don't know who drew it."  
Emily smirked at her friend, resting her cheek in the palm of his hand.  
"If I didn't know any better….I'd say you've got a secret admirer."  
Duck flushed and looked down at his hands.  
"I highly doubt that, Em. Nobody has ever admired me before. Not in that way, at least."  
"Lucky you," Emily muttered, "everywhere I go, some guy is always undressing me with his eyes."  
"Oh, you poor thing," Duck said sarcastically, "that's so much worse than having some random person you don't even know draw a picture of you."  
Emily waved him off.  
"It was a great picture, though. You should be proud that someone likes you so much to draw something that amazing."  
Duck rolled his eyes as Percy, Edward and James all sat down to join them.  
"Hey, Duck, I saw your picture," James said, picking up his fork, "congratulations on officially becoming more splendid than me."  
Duck rolled his eyes again, but what Emily had said made him think.  
 _You should be proud that someone likes you so much to draw something that amazing._

Duck looked at Percy, who was in a deep conversation with Emily.  
 _Somebody drew a picture of me...a brilliant picture of me...nobody's ever done that for me before….I guess I am really proud._

"I saw the picture, too," Edward was saying, "it was outstanding...who knew we had such a brilliant artist in this school, huh?"  
"Yeah," Emily agreed, "pretty soon all the artists and the musicians will just start some huge fight and just have some huge war over who's better. That'll make people forget about the drawing."  
The boys all laughed.  
"Speaking of musician, where the bloody hell is Thomas? He should be here by now," Edward said, looking up from his book.  
"He's in the band room," Percy replied, "he said he had to work on something."  
"Typical," James muttered, taking a bite of his spaghetti, "probably tuning his guitar for the hundredth time."  
Duck looked up at the clock, saw the time, and stood.  
"Where you going?" Percy asked.  
"I'm meeting someone in the library," he replied, throwing his eaten apple in the trash can, "I'll see you guys later."

Down in the library, Oliver was finishing up some Forensics homework. He was pretty good at the class and he found it pretty fun. He finished the last problem and tucked the answer sheet away where nothing would happen to it. He rubbed the growing  
bruise under his eye and hissed in pain. He wasn't sure why his father was the person he was, or why he hated him so much. All Oliver knew was that he'd rather be hurt himself than put Toad in danger.  
If I had it in me...I'd knock him straight back to the Great Western.  
"Hey, Oliver."  
Oliver looked up, surprised to see Duck standing there.  
"O-Oh, Duck! Hi!"  
He quickly cupped his cheek in attempt to hide the horrible bruise on his face.  
Duck grinned, trying desperately to pretend that he didn't notice.  
"Hey."  
Duck took off his backpack, set it on the floor, and sat down next to his new friend.  
Oliver smiled.  
"How's school going for you? You like it here?"  
"It's pretty good. I hate math, though."  
"Really?"  
"With a burning passion."  
"Me too."  
"I'm not surprised. You always hated math."  
The two Great Westerns chuckled. Oliver pulled his sketchbook from his backpack and began to flip through it.  
"Slow down," Duck said, "I wanna see...is that okay?"  
Oliver hesitated. It had been a long time since Duck saw his drawings.  
"Uh...yeah. I-It's fine."  
He turned page after page, and Duck looked at them with amazement.  
He stopped Oliver at one particular picture. It was a picture of two boys, with their arms around each other and they were sharing a pair of earbuds. One had a scarf around his neck and the other wore a jacket with a number one. They were both smiling,  
and reading something from a book together.  
"Those are…" Duck said quietly, "those are my friends…"  
"These two?"  
"Yeah...Thomas and Percy."  
"Oh, so that's his name," Oliver muttered.  
"You didn't know his name and yet you draw these amazing pictures of him? What about Percy? Did you know his name?"  
"No…"  
Duck stared at him, shocked.  
"H-How...How did you even do this? You've improved…."  
Oliver looked down, then looked back up.  
"Uh...I just observe people, I guess. I saw Thomas with his guitar one day when I was waiting for my ride...and I just drew him while he was practicing."  
"Did he see you?"  
"I don't think so."  
Oliver flipped another page, revealing a picture of Percy scribbling in one of his notebooks, eyes wide and smiling fully.  
Duck could only stare in awe.  
"Wow…" He breathed, staring at Oliver, "these are brilliant...absolutely brilliant. I knew you were a good artist, Oliver...but I didn't know you were that good.  
Oliver flushed a brilliant shade of magenta. He smirked.  
"Well...I-I'm not as talented as you, Mr. Video Arts….I could never do that."  
Duck laughed.  
"Well, I could never draw."  
Oliver only grinned shyly as he and his new friend continued to look over the masterpieces.  
"Hey," Duck suddenly said, "everybody really liked that picture you drew of me."  
"So, you finally figured out it was me, huh?" Oliver said sarcastically. "Took you long enough." 


	4. Chapter 4

Note: Hey guys! Heres chapter four, and sorry if this story is kind of going slow, but it'll speed up here real soon! I hope you all like this story so far, and please enjoy the chapter!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter

Chapter 4

About five to six months had gone by into the school year. Everyday Duck and Oliver went to the library together, and everyday they got closer. The two Great Westerns we're inseparable once more, their friendship from years before standing strongly  
again. They were really never separated. The only thing that did separate them was their different courses.  
"God, I hate gym," Henry complained as he put away his clothes and picked up his backpack.  
"So do I," Duck groaned. "Where you going next, Henry?"  
"Math. Gordon's walking me there."  
"You have math next? Ouch."  
"Yeah. Big ouch."  
Duck sighed and shut his locker.  
"I've got lunch. I'm meeting someone in the library. See you later, Henry."  
"Bye."  
Duck was happy that despite their different classes, he and Oliver always had lunch to look forward to.

James stormed to the cafeteria and plopped himself down next to Percy. He immediately noticed that the group was one short, like how it had been for about six months.  
"Where the bloody hell is Duck? Believe it or not, I actually kind of miss him."  
"Cinders and ashes, Jamie, you're going soft," Thomas smirked.  
"Shut up, Tommy," James grinned, making the other teen shut up at once at the mention of the nickname Percy gave him.  
James smirked in satisfaction.  
"seriously, where's Duck?" He asked.  
"He's in the library with Oliver," Percy replied.  
James cocked his head.  
"Who?"  
"His best friend from childhood that moved here," Edward replied, "he's Great Western, too, apparently."  
"Oh, bloody hell!" James yelled, burying his face in his hands, "not another one!"  
Emily rolled her eyes.  
"Oh, shut up, James. Duck's with his own kind. He's really happy."  
"You mean flock?" James smirked, causing Thomas and Percy to burst into hysterics at the little joke.  
Emily rolled her eyes again.  
"Seriously, James, just shut up."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask, but what's your off hour?" Duck asked.  
"Eighth," Oliver replied.  
"Oh. I have video arts that hour."  
His eyes suddenly lit up.  
"Hey, why don't you come to the studio with me? It beats being here by yourself."  
"I actually like being alone," Oliver responded stiffly.  
"Why's that?"  
Because every minute I'm alone is a minute where I'm not getting beat up by my Dad, he wanted to reply.  
But, he froze, and said something else.  
"I'm just independent, I guess. What exactly would I do in your class?"  
Duck grinned.  
"I could teach you how to operate a soundboard and make the actor's voice sound stupid."  
Oliver looked up at him in surprise.  
"That sounds awesome. I'm in."  
"Great."

As the bell rang to signal the end of seventh period, Oliver made his way to the Studio. There were many different Studio Hallways at Sodor Academy. One for Photography, one for Movies, and one for Art. The music course had a whole section of the  
school to themselves, and all the writers had a whole hallway for them, and the theatre and dancers had their own studios. Oliver opened the door to the Video Studio and stepped inside. There was a huge stage that had tons of different props on  
it. There were stage lights, and a whole backstage for the students who took the class. There was also a separate room for the green screen, which the Video and Photography students all had access to. On the stage, James and Gordon were rehearsing  
their lines. There were a few other students there. Rosie, a girl who had a huge crush on Thomas, was an actress for the class. BoCo, being the smartest and most mature of the lot, was the director. Molly was there too, and she appeared to be  
the producer.  
Smart lot, Oliver thought.  
Duck opened the door to the sound booth and smiled.  
"Hey, you're here! Come on, we'll be up here."  
The two climbed the stairs, and Duck quickly sat down in a rolling chair, and pulled up an extra one for Oliver. He put on his headphones, and handed Oliver a set to put on.  
"Ready up there?" Came BoCo's voice through the headphones.  
Duck grinned at Oliver's surprised look, and flicked the switch that turned on the stage lights.  
"Ready."  
"Okay," BoCo said, "The Great Race act four, scene two. Take Three."  
There was a snap.  
"ACTION!"  
Oliver could see James and Gordon speaking to each other. He watched Rosie run onto the stage, and join in on the part. She handed Gordon something, then ran off. The boys kept talking.  
"Hey, Duck, dim Light Two a little," came BoCo's voice through his headphones.  
Duck nodded and turned the light's knob a little.  
"That's better. Thank you."  
Gordon and James kept saying their lines for about another minute, until,  
"CUT!"  
Oliver watched with interest as BoCo pointed at James and said something that Oliver couldn't hear. James nodded.  
"Ready," Duck suddenly said.  
"The Great Race, act four, scene two. Take four."  
There was another snap.  
"ACTION!"  
Duck twisted a knob on the soundboard and pushed up a volume key.  
"Hey," he said to Oliver, "watch this."  
He pressed a button on the Soundboard, and he could immediately hear everything Gordon and James were saying. Duck grinned as he pushed another button.  
"What're you doing?" Oliver asked.  
"Screwing with their voices," Duck replied. "Listen."  
Oliver listened closely. Suddenly, he burst out laughing as James' voice came out horribly low and Gordon's came out static and squeaky. He sounded like a chipmunk. Oliver threw his head back against the chair and laughed like crazy.  
"How-How did you learn to do that?" He asked once he calmed down, wiping away tears and avoiding the bruise.  
"I just taught myself," Duck said, "BoCo taught me what he could, which wasn't much...so I just taught myself the rest."  
"That's impressive."  
"Thanks."  
"Duck! Dim the freak'n light!" BoCo yelled.  
"Okay, okay," Duck chuckled, turning off the stupid voice effects and turning down the lights. "Calm down, cinders and ashes…"  
"CUT!" BoCo screamed.  
Duck hit the lights and the mic buttons to turn them off.  
"You're doing it all wrong!" BoCo yelled at James and Gordon, "you do it like this!"  
James and Gordon watched him do a dramatic impression, then turned on each other.  
"Bloody hell," Duck groaned, "here we go."  
"What?"  
"They're gonna start arguing any second. Just wait."  
Then, the yelling began.  
"Oh, cinders and ashes," Duck sighed, spinning around in the chair, "get comfy. We'll be here awhile."  
"Guys! Shut up and pay attention!" Came BoCo's yell, "honestly, how are we gonna get this done?"  
"BoCo, don't even try," Duck muttered into his mic, "this is just a repeat of every other day."  
"You don't say?" Came the director's voice, sounding exasperated.  
The shouting on stage got louder and louder.  
"Shoot me," Duck sighed, looking tiredly at Oliver, "please."  
"No. I would never."  
"Ollie!" he whined.  
"Nope."  
Duck sighed and spoke into his mic again.  
"BoCo, shoot me."  
"Not gonna happen, Monty."  
"Don't call me that."  
Duck threw open the sound booth window and leaned out.  
"Gordon! James! Shut your bloody mouths!"  
"Duck," came the director's voice with a sigh, "this'll go on for awhile. You can go if you want."  
"Are you sure? We can stay."  
"No, it's alright. I'll shut them up. Thanks for actually working with me. Unlike these two."  
"No problem, BoCo. See you tomorrow."

"So, that's video arts?" Oliver asked as they walked through the hallway.

"That's video arts," Duck replied.  
Oliver shrugged.  
"Seems legit."  
Duck laughed as he opened up his locker and grabbed his geometry textbook. He slammed the door and turned to Oliver.  
"Hey, listen."  
"Yeah?"  
"It's Friday, and I've got a video project I need to work on...and then my family and I are gonna go visit the Great Western on Sunday."  
"You're going to the Great Western?" Oliver cried, "you lucky duck! How're you gonna get your project done, though?"  
"That's the thing, though. I could use some help on my project…" Duck paused, "and I could use a friend to hang out with...why don't you stay the weekend at my house?"  
Oliver stood there, pondering the idea. Then, he remembered his father. He rubbed the gigantic bruise on his face tenderly and reminded himself how much he didn't want another one. Duck looked at him, slightly concerned.  
"I…" he stammered, "sorry, I can't. You see, it's Toad...and I can't leave him home alone."  
"Can't your parents take care of him?"  
"N-No!" Oliver cried. "They-They can't!"  
Duck smiled, coming up with a solution.  
"How about if we brought Toad with us? Would that be okay? He can stay with us. I'd love to see him again."  
Oliver paused for a minute, thinking.  
"Yeah…" he finally said, "yeah. That'd be perfect. But, we'd have to go get him from school. And I'd have to go get our clothes from our house."  
"Done and done," Duck replied, getting out his phone, "I'll call my mom."

Marianne squealed as she flung open the car door.

"Oh, Ollie, dear!" She smiled, throwing her arms around him, "it's so good to see you again! And you'll be living here! That's brilliant! We've missed you so much!"  
Oliver smiled at the woman he considered a second mother and hugged back.  
"I've missed you all, too."  
"Goodness, look how much you've grown…" she murmured, cupping his cheek with a proud smile, "you're very handsome."  
Oliver's face burned and he smiled shyly.  
Minutes later, Oliver was sitting in the backseat of Marianne's green mustang, Duck sitting in shotgun.  
"So, hon, do you still draw?" Marianne asked as she pulled away from the curb.  
"Of course," Oliver replied proudly.  
"Good! So, where does your little brother go to school?"  
"Sodor Elementary," he replied.  
Marianne nodded, already knowing how to get there, as she'd driven by it several times.  
"Tell me about your courses," she said, wanting to talk to the boy her son had grown up with.  
"Well, there isn't too much to tell," Oliver said, "I'm the top in the course for Visual Arts for drawing...and I've been drawing for as long as I can remember."  
"I showed him around the set today," Duck cut in.  
"Really?" Marianne said, "did he like it?"  
"I thought it was cool," Oliver replied, "those two boys wouldn't stop yelling at each other though...and the director has a pretty strong character."  
"That's BoCo for you," Duck said. "And, yeah, Gordon and James argue every single day. It's just something that I have to put up with."  
"You poor thing."  
"Hey!"  
Oliver laughed as Marianne pulled the car in front of Sodor Elementary, and Oliver hopped out.  
"I'll be right back."  
Marianne watched him walk in the door.  
"Montague?" She said slowly.  
"Yeah?"  
"How on earth did he get that bruise on his face?" She demanded, "it's huge!"  
Duck shrugged.  
"He told me he just had a little accident."  
"What kind of accident?"  
Duck shrugged again.  
"I think he said it was a softball accident. He got hit with the ball."  
Marianne relaxed a little. It made sense.  
Oliver came back, Toad running next to him. Duck opened the door and stepped out, holding his arms out for the younger.  
"Mister Duck!" Toad cried gleefully, jumping into his arms with so much force that it knocked Duck against the car, "Mister Duck! I've missed you! Why'd you leave, silly?"  
"Hey," Duck grinned, "I missed you, too. Aren't you cute."  
"Mister Oliver! Am I cute?" Toad squealed, gray eyes wide.  
Oliver chuckled and side hugged him.  
"Very, Toad."  
Duck climbed back into the car with Toad on his lap. He gave the younger a little tickle, and Toad laughed hysterically.  
"Where's your house, dear?" Marianne asked, putting the mustang in drive.  
"It's two blocks down the road."  
Toad smiled gleefully and held tightly onto Duck.  
"You've gotten a lot bigger, Mister Duck! What happened?"  
Duck chuckled lightly and gave him a gentlesqueeze.  
"I grew, you little tyke. I still am. You'll grow up, too, someday."  
"So, I'll be old and bossy like you someday, Mister Duck? Is that what growing up means?"  
"Toad!" Oliver scolded, while Marianne threw her head back against the headrest and burst into laughter. Meanwhile, Duck nodded, holding back his own laughter.  
"Yes...someday you'll be like your brother. Old and a tad of a bad listener."  
"Oh, ha-ha," Oliver muttered, "I'm a wonderful listener. Maybe not all the time, but, most of the time, I am!"  
"Back on the Great Western I warned you over and over not to ride your bike near the engine turntable," Duck started loudly, "and you know what you did? You rode it near the turntable anyway. And you know what happened?"  
"...I crashed my bike into it," Oliver huffed.  
"And you know what happened next?"  
"I was taken to the hospital."  
"And why?"  
Oliver groaned, but he was smiling slightly.  
"Because I got hurt. I needed stitches."  
"And why did all this happen?" Duck exclaimed dramatically.  
"...Because, I didn't listen to you."  
Duck smiled triumphantly and turned back to Toad.  
"You see, Toad, that's what growing up means. Someday you're gonna be like your brother: you don't listen and you age! And then people start to notice you, and you'll never have peace and quiet again!"  
"Then I can't wait to grow up!"  
Toad giggled, "I can't wait to be like Mister Oliver! Riding a bike into a turntable sounds fun!"  
"Don't you ever attempt that," Oliver said firmly, "I don't want you hurt...ever. And, stay young while you can."  
They all laughed as Marianne pulled up to their house. Oliver sighed in relief when he saw his father's car wasn't there.  
But, just in case…  
"Stay here, Toad. I'll get everything."  
Toad nodded.  
Oliver quickly ran inside.  
"Toad, dear," said Marianne, "I hate to be butting into you and your brother's business, but...do you know how your brother got that bruise on his face?"  
Toad shook his head.  
"No, miss. I'm not sure why. He won't tell me."  
Marianne's concern immediately grew.  
Oliver returned with two bags, one full of Toad's things, and one full of his.  
"Hey," Duck said suddenly as they drove off, "do you have to go to work today?"  
Oliver shook his head.  
"No. I'm off on Friday's because of school. And I already called them to let them know I wouldn't be able to work this weekend."  
"You're always a step ahead, aren't you?"  
"What can I say?" Oliver replied, "I am Great Western, after all." 


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Hey, here's another chapter! I wanted to get this one uploaded tonight because I have plans for tomorrow evening and won't be able to upload! Anyway, enjoy chapter five, and bec warned! It contains language and abuse!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter

Chapter 5

The minute Duck opened the door to the house, his dog jumped onto him.  
"Hey, girl!" He greeted, petting her on the head, "how ya doing, Train?"  
Train licked his hand, her tail wagging so fast it was a blur. She was a two year old beagle, with large brown eyes and a white tip on her tail. She looked at Oliver, and cocked her head, ears perked.  
"Stick your hand out," Duck instructed.  
Oliver did as told. Train sniffed his fingers, and her tail started wagging again. She jumped up on his leg and gave his cheek many slobbery licks.  
"Ewww, gross! Stop!" Oliver laughed, but failed at pushing the dog away. "Stop it!"  
Train backed away, cocking her head cutely.  
"Here, let's go to my room," Duck said. "C'mon, Train."  
The two boys and the dog walked up the stairs. Duck threw open the door to his room. Train jumped on the bed, and put her head on her paws.  
"Sure, Train, make yourself at home," Duck said sarcastically, throwing his backpack on the bed.  
"Why'd you call her Train?" Oliver asked, stroking the beagle's head.  
"She was impossible to train, I found her in a train, and I like trains," came the simple reply. "Who doesn't like trains?"  
Oliver looked around. The walls were covered with a forest green wallpaper, and parts of the walls were covered with Great Western Railway posters. He had two desks: one was a oak desk for school work, and the other desk had two expensive laptops sitting  
on it, as well as some other tech stuff Oliver didn't recognize. There was a full size bed with a green and black bedspread, with yellow, bold letters that said GWR on it, and the bed had a black and red wooden frame. There were two windows, each  
coming with a set of yellow curtains.  
"It's not much," Duck said, "but...it's mine."  
"I like it," Oliver replied, "it's very...green. It kind of reminds me of that engine your father drove on the Great Western."  
"Eh, I like green," Duck said, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed, "it's a good color. And he still has that engine, by the way."  
"It is. Where's Toad?"  
"He's playing in the backyard."  
Oliver tossed his backpack to the floor and set his bag down. He stood up straight, only to feel a sharp pain in his back. And then, of course, a sheering pain ran through the bruise on his cheek.  
He cupped it out of instinct, trying to ease the pain.  
"Oliver?" Duck asked in concern, getting off the bed to put a hand on his shoulder.  
Oliver didn't respond as another sharp pain came again, this time in his eye.  
"Oliver!" Duck cried in alarm, cupping his friend's cheek. "Are you okay?!"  
"Owww…" Oliver groaned.  
Duck shoved him down to the bed, making Train growl in protest, and ran out of the room. The dog ran out after him, and Oliver could hear the sound of a bowl being filled up with dog kibble. Duck returned in seconds, shoving something cold and soft onto  
Oliver's cheek. He stiffened up at the cold, but then relaxed at the relief.  
"Thank you…" he sighed.  
Duck nodded, alarm fading away slowly.  
"What the bloody hell was that?" He asked. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine…"  
Duck cupped Oliver's cheek again, lifting his chin and looking at him straight in the eyes. Oliver stared right back, and neither of them blinked once. Duck cocked his head, looking at every inch, every feature, every bit of his best friend. Duck glared  
at the angry bruise on his old friend's face, and he wanted to scowl at it's presence. He hated seeing Oliver in pain. Oliver was still staring back, turning a deep red.  
"D-Duck?"  
"You have really pretty eyes…" Duck murmured without thinking, "they're so green…they've changed over the years."  
Oliver smiled shyly.  
"T-Thanks…"  
Duck rubbed the bruise on his friend's cheek gently, and to Oliver, it was a gesture full of such care and affection that he thought his heart would explode out of his chest. Duck pulled him into a soft embrace, wrapping his arms around his lower back.  
Oliver returned the embrace by leaning his good cheek on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. They sat there in silence for what felt like years.  
Neither of them wanted to move.  
Duck tightened his arms around Oliver and drew him even closer, if possible.  
"Duck?"  
"Hmmm?" Duck murmured into his hair.  
"I...I…" Oliver stammered, "I've missed you. A...A lot, actually."  
Duck smiled.  
"I've missed you, too. More than you know. I'm sorry I moved."  
"It's not your fault."  
Oliver flinched as more pain ran through his cheek.  
Where did you really get that bruise?" Duck asked.  
Oliver sighed, thinking over his options.  
Should I tell him? He could help.  
He hesitated.  
 _I can't...he's already gone for me...what if Dad goes for him, too?_

He decided.  
 _If I say a word...Toad will get hurt. And Duck might get hurt, too_ …  
"I was being honest," Oliver said, "softball accident. I got hit in the face."  
"Just once?"  
 _Not even close. I've lost count_ …  
"Just once," he confirmed, "trust me."  
"Of course."  
Duck reluctantly let him go, and stood up.  
"Dinner should be ready soon. Let's head downstairs."  
"Hey, wait," Oliver said, making Duck turn around, "what about your project?"  
Duck grinned.  
"You remember that thing I was doing in Video class?"  
"Yeah."  
"That was the project."  
"Oh...wait, what?"  
Duck laughed, rubbing his neck sheepishly.  
"Well...the project is a class project...that's what I was doing in class today. I lied so you'd stay the weekend with me."  
"So...we're not going to the Great Western?" Oliver said quietly, feeling very disappointed and even betrayed.  
Duck smiled at him, and Oliver was immediately confused.  
"You think I'd lie about something like that? I wanted to spend the weekend with you so we could visit home together. That...and I have something I have to tell you."  
"What is it?"  
Duck turned to the open door and walked through it.  
"You'll find out. And I'm not lying this time."  
The boys walked down to the kitchen, where Marianne was setting a big plate of meatballs and salmon on the table. There was also bowls of other appetizers, and Oliver felt his stomach growl.  
"This…" he began, "looks amazing."  
"Thanks, Oliver," Marianne said, setting a plate of crispy garlic bread on the table. "Duck, your father will be home in about an hour. Go out and help with the engines."  
Duck nodded obediently and walked out of the house to get the hangar ready.  
"Can I help you with anything, Miss Pannier?" Oliver asked.  
Marianne smiled.  
"Pleased, dear, call me Marianne. And, no, I don't need help. You're our guest."  
"Nonsense," Oliver said kindly, "let me help."  
"If you insist…" she said slyly, "how are you with desserts?"  
Oliver grinned.  
"I've cooked for Toad since I was nine years old. I'm a MASTER at desserts."  
Marianne smirked, throwing a towel over her shoulder.  
"Care to prove that?"  
Oliver smirked back and picked up a spatula.  
"Gladly."  
Marianne turned to the oven and set a timer for an hour.  
"You have one hour to make a dessert dish that'll please my tastes."  
Oliver twisted the spatula in his hand, smiling confidently.  
"Bring it."  
"Your time starts...now."

"Hey, Dad," Duck said, once his father jumped out of the little green Great Western tank engine.  
"Son," his father, Miles, acknowledged, pulling him into a side hug. "Good day?"  
"Yeah. You?"  
"Busy, but good. Want to drive her in the rest of the way?"  
Duck nodded. He jumped in the engine, and pulled back the lever to make it go forward. The engine lurched forward, and drove slowly into the special engine hangar Miles had built when the family had moved. Almost every family in Sodor lived by railroad  
tracks. Duck's house was along a branch line called The Little Western, and it had a separate line of tracks that separated from the branch line, and led into the tank engine hangar made specifically for the Little Western engines. Duck put on the  
brakes and put out the fire. He gave the whistle a blow and jumped out.  
"There you go, Dad."  
"Thanks, son. Now, let's go in. I'm starving."  
"Oh, and Dad," Duck said, "we have a guest here...and he'll be going with us this weekend to the Great Western. He's Great Western, too. You'll love him….and you'll be surprised to see him."  
Miles nodded.  
"I'll be happy to meet him."  
Wen Duck opened the door to the house, he was met with a very pleasant aroma.  
"What the bloody hell is that?" Miles asked. "What's cooking, Marianne?"  
"It's not me who's cooking, Miles," Marianne replied, "five minutes, Oliver!"  
"Oliver?" Miles asked in surprise when his eyes landed on said teen, "Oliver!"  
Oliver nodded and set a glass, circular pan on the table. He took out a torch, and caramelized the very top of the dish he was making. He took another dish out of the oven and set it down, sprinkling some chopped vanilla on it. Finally, he used to torch  
on each dessert one last-  
"TIME!" Marianne yelled, and Oliver threw his hands up.  
"Oliver, my boy!" Miles laughed, walking over to give him a quick hug, "What a lovely surprise! What're you doing here on Sodor?"  
Oliver grinned.  
"The Great Western was getting too crowded, so we moved here. That, and I was requested to enroll in Sodor Academy for the Arts."  
"God, son, it's great to see you again," Miles said proudly, "you've grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you!"  
Oliver grinned proudly, and brought both dishes that he made to the table.  
"What is it?" Miles asked, staring at the table in wonder.  
"It's a Pre-Great Western Trip Dinner," Duck joked.  
"That's a good idea," Marianne said. "It looks delicious, dear."  
Marianne walked to the back door and opened it.  
"Toad, honey. It's time to come in. Dinner's ready."  
"Uh…" Miles said, confused when he saw Toad. Toad had been very little when Miles had last seen him, and honestly, he hardly ever saw Toad. He didn't remember him all too well.  
"He's my little brother," Oliver explained, "I'm sure it's hard to remember him. I couldn't leave him home alone, so I brought him with me...I hope that's okay."  
"It's perfectly fine, son. No need to worry."  
Toad ran into the house and took a seat next to Oliver. Marianne clapped her hands and began to announce the night's dinner.  
"Tonight, gentlemen, we have Irish Meatballs and Poached Salmon with a side of garlic bread. And for dessert, we have…"  
She gestured to Oliver to continue.  
He smirked.  
"We have a caramelized chocolate creme brûlée with tiramisu, topped with chopped vanilla and cinnamon sugar."  
Duck gaped at him. He had no idea Oliver could cook.  
"You haven't cooked this for a long time, Mister Oliver!" Toad said excitedly.  
Oliver smiled.  
"Well...I hope it's suited to your tastes….Marianne."  
Marianne burst into laughter.  
"Aw, hon," she sniggered, "you've been suited to my taste the minute we met you for the first time."  
Miles picked up everyone's plates and served them a generous amount.  
"Son, how'd you get that bruise on your face?" Miles asked Oliver, "it looks like it hurts."  
"I-It hurts," Oliver admitted, "but, it'll heal up. I got hit with a softball."  
Miles chuckled.  
"You boys and your sports, huh? Be careful next time."  
Oliver nodded hurriedly.  
Once the plates were empty, they were filled again with dessert.  
"Oh my god…" Duck said in disbelief, "Oliver...this tiramisu stuff is amazing…"  
"This is damn good," Miles said, earning a sharp nudge from his wife as she jerked her head in Toad's direction. "Sorry."  
"Toad, how old are you?" Marianne asked.  
"I'm eight!" He replied proudly, "it was my birthday two weeks ago!"  
Marianne smiled.  
"Well, you are just darling. What a handsome young man you're becoming."  
Toad blushed and hid his face in Oliver's jacket, who put his arm around him.  
"Would you like to sleep in the guest room, Oliver?" Miles asked, already knowing that the teen would be staying the night.  
"No need," Duck cut in, "he can sleep in my room."  
"Now, Duck," Marianne said, "he needs his own space-"  
"Actually, Marianne, I'd like to sleep in Duck's room. We'll have fun," Oliver said, making Duck smile, "like good old times, eh, Monty?"  
"Don't call me that."  
"Alright, boys, but don't be up too late. We're taking a train to the Great Western tomorrow," Marianne said with a jovial grin.  
"We're going home, Mister Oliver?" Toad asked in surprise, "back home to the Great Western?"  
Oliver nodded and ruffled his hair.  
"Yes, Toad. Back to the Great Western."  
"I don't see why I can't just drive us to the railway in my engine," Miles said. "I can borrow some old coaches and drive the engine there…"  
"You'll be driving no engine anytime soon," Marianne said firmly, gathering up the dishes, "that engine is the sole property of the Little Western. We have no rights or permission to take it away from the branch line."  
Miles sighed.  
"It would save us some money…"  
"So, you'd rather get arrested than spend a few dollars, Dad?" Duck said, helping his mom clear the table.  
Miles thought over his son's comment for a brief second.  
"...I suppose not, son."  
Toad yawned suddenly and snuggled up to Oliver's chest, clutching his jacket in both of his fists. Oliver smiled softly and stroked his hair.  
"Looks like it somebody's bedtime."  
Duck smiled at the cute sight.  
"I'll take you to the guest room."  
Oliver gently carried Toad to the bedroom that Duck led him to, put him gently on the bed, and covered him up. Toad clutched at the covers and breathed softly.  
He was fast asleep.  
Oliver stroked his cheek softly, then leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead.  
"Sleep well. I love you, Toad."  
Oliver tiptoed out and shut the door behind him. He climbed up the stairs and into Duck's room where he went to change into his pajamas. He was brushing his teeth when Duck walked into the bathroom.  
"Hey, I gotta brush my teeth."  
Oliver nodded, spitting out some water. He rinsed with mouthwash, then pulled out a little green case from his pocket. He opened it, and pulled out the contents. Opening his mouth, he shoved the clear-plastic retainer onto his teeth.  
"Did you have braces?" Duck asked.  
"Nope. I had a few of my teeth knocked out after you left."  
Duck looked very surprised,  
"Why?" He asked.  
Oliver decided to be honest with his best friend for once.  
"I...I got beat up."  
Oliver swore he saw fire in the other Great Western's eyes.  
"By who?" He asked darkly.  
Oliver shrugged.  
"I don't know or remember. But, it's clear and comfy, so I don't mind wearing it."  
The boys exited the bathroom, and got ready for bed. Oliver had about eight bundles of blankets for a bed, with a soft pillow. He covered himself up, feeling warm and full and sleepy. He shut his eyes as Duck climbed into his bed and covered himself up.  
"Goodnight, Oliver. Sweet dreams."  
"Goodnight, Duck. Sleep well."

 _The little boy could only stare in fear as the drunk advanced towards him. He threw his hand against the boy's throat and pinned him against the wall. The boy struggled to escape and struggled to breathe. He tried to move back as the man got too close for comfort._

 _"Pitiful," he slurred, "you little piece of shit. You look so much like her that it makes me sick."_

 _The little boy could feel tears well up in his eyes from the pain._

 _"Please! Let me go!"_

 _He was rewarded with a slap to the face._

 _"Shut the hell up," the man spat, "you deserve everything you get, you little bastard."_

 _The boy felt tears trickle down as he remembered that horrible night, with the evidence left behind lying at the foot of the stairs, liguid sweeping across the floor._

 _"She's not coming back," the man snarled, "she never wanted you, though. She always hated you. And I've always hated you, too, you mistake."_

 _But, the boy didn't say a word. He was met with another slap, and the force sent him flying back._

 _"It should've been you, son," came the man's voice, "and it will be."_

 _The boy screamed._

Oliver's screams made Duck shoot up like a rocket. He looked down to see Oliver thrashing around, muttering nonstop, and tears trickling down his injured cheek.  
"Oh,my god!" Duck said in shock, jumping down to shake him, "Oliver! Wake up!"  
But, he got no response, just more screams.  
"Oliver! Get up! It's okay!"  
But, even that didn't work, so Duck took precautionary measures.  
"Oliver," he said gently, shaking him, "it's me, Duck. If you can hear me, you're having a nightmare. I'm here...you're safe."  
Duck sighed with relief when Oliver started to calm down.  
"I swear to god, Oliver…" He whispered, pulling him into a hug, "whatever you're dreaming about...I'll protect you from it."  
Oliver's eyes flew open as more tears poured down. He saw that Duck was the one who was holding him, and he leaned into his embrace, nuzzling into his shoulder. He tried to get rid of the awful images, but he couldn't close his eyes.  
He'd just keep seeing them.  
Oliver tried so hard to console the salt water in his eyes, but he was failing horribly. Duck could feel his shoulders shaking from trying too hard.  
"Hey…" He said gently, "Oliver...it's okay to cry…"  
But, Oliver shook his head.  
"N-Not gonna cry…" He stammered.  
"It's okay to cry…" Duck repeated, "cry, Oliver...it's alright. There's nobody here but me."  
Hearing those comforting words and feeling those strong arms around him, Oliver burst into tears. Duck could feel them land on his shoulder, soaking through the fabric of his shirt.  
But, he didn't care.  
"Shh…" He soothed, "it's okay, Ollie...I'm here. I've got you...I'll always be here for you."  
"D-Damn you, don't leave me how they did!" Oliver bawled, "p-please, Duck...don't leave me all alone...I-I don't know what I'd do!"  
"I'm not leaving you, Ollie," Duck said softly, rocking him slightly, "not now, not ever. I promise...I'll never leave your side again. I'm not making the same mistake."  
Oliver only nodded, but more tears fell as he finally collapsed under the sheer weight of his troubles. Duck just continued to shush him, holding him tightly.  
"You wanna sleep in my bed, Oliver?"  
"O-Only if you're sleeping in it, too," came the whisper of reply, "I don't wanna be alone...d-don't leave me, Duck…"  
"Wouldn't dream of it," Duck replied, lifting his best friend onto his bed and crawling in next to him. His arms immediately found their way around Oliver, who cuddled into his hold at once. Duck tightened his grip on his friend as he felt his  
shoulders shake from how hard he was crying. Oliver was physically and emotionally exhausted, and all the tears had really worn him out.  
"Shh…" Duck whispered, drawing him even closer, wrapping both of his arms around his friend's waist, "I'll be right here when you wake up. I'll watch over you. I promise."  
Oliver nodded slowly, shut his eyes, and was out in seconds. Duck smiled to himself, got comfy, and fell asleep with his best friend. For once, in a long time, Oliver had good dreams, all involving trains, him and Duck and their intertwined hands.  
The only dream that he never wanted to wake up from. 

* * *

Notes: So, what'd you think of that? I'll upload again on Friday, just In case you didn't read the authors note at the beginning! As I'm sure you can see by now, I'm a huge Duck/Oliver supporter, probably one of the few out there! No problem, though!  
I love writing stories about these two! I've always liked the concept of having Oliver and Toad brothers, I just think that's the relationship they share. I feel like Oliver is the responsible older brother who always looks out for Toad, makes sure  
he's safe and protected and feel free to leave comments, but only nice ones!  
See you later!


	6. Chapter 6

When Duck woke up, he ignored the way his arms were wrapped protectively around Oliver.  
Or, he tried to, at least.  
Oliver looked so calm and peaceful when he was asleep. Duck reached out and gently rubbed the bruise on his cheek, and Oliver's face immediately shifted into one of distress.  
"N-No…" he muttered, "please...stop…"  
Duck immediately drew his hand away in shock.  
"L-Leave me alone…" Oliver called out in his sleep, "you're hurting me…"  
"He sure is having a weird dream," Duck muttered.  
He looked down at Oliver's sleeping form, looking so calm, so cute and so...vulnerable.  
"Oh, bloody hell, dirty thoughts," Duck stated.  
 _He does look cute, though_ , said a voice in his head.  
 **I'm not disagreeing with you** , he shot back.  
 _Obviously not_ , came the voice again. _He's really handsome, huh?_

 **Oh, yeah.**

 _Come on, nows your chance_! The voice encouraged, _he won't even know it's you_!  
 **You're telling me to take advantage of him while he's sleeping?!**

 _You wouldn't be able to anywhere else_.  
 **No...I-I'm not doing that. That's not the Great Western Way**.  
 _Forget about that for a second! Don't you want him?_

... **What**?  
 _You heard me. Do you?_

... **Very much. I know this is horrible to say, but...look at him! Who WOULDN'T want him?!**

 _Then, go on. Kiss him._

 **I'm not doing that. What kind of friend would I be?!**

 _You'd be an honest one_.  
... **I'm not doing it. Shut up and go bother somebody else, weird voice in my head.**

 _You're in love._

... **I know.**

Duck looked down at Oliver's adorable, relaxed form.  
 **I think of my best friend as adorable. My best friend! God, I'm sick.**

 _No, you're not. Thomas and Percy are like that, too. And so are Edward, James, Henry and Gordon. And you don't mind._

 **Of course I don't mind! They're my friends! But...if my parents ever found out that I was…**

 _Then they'd love you just as much as they always have._

Duck shook his head and looked at the clock next to his bed through blurry eyes.  
9:15 am.  
He yawned and walked to the bathroom. He rubbed some water on his face and ran a comb through his hair. He quietly opened the door and shut it behind him, but not before grabbing his phone. He walked into the kitchen, not surprised that nobody was up  
yet. His family liked to sleep in, because, who doesn't like to sleep in on weekends? Train was asleep on her pillow in the corner of the room, ears twitching once in awhile. Duck grinned at the adorable sight, then looked up at the clock again. The  
train they had to catch for the Great Western didn't leave till twelve thirty, so he had plenty of time to get ready.  
But, first…  
Duck dialed a number on his phone. And after three rings, there was a response.  
"H-Hello?" Came Thomas' tired voice.  
"Hey, Thomas. Sorry, but I really had to wake you."  
"Who is it?" Came Percy's voice, also tired.  
"Duck," Thomas replied. "What's up?"  
Duck rubbed his eyes.  
"Here...put me on speaker. I wanna talk to the both of you."  
"Okay. You're on. What's up?"  
Duck sighed.  
"How...How did you guys know you were in love with each other?"  
There was silence on the other line.  
"Well…" Thomas replied slowly, "I found out I liked Percy back in middle school. I tried to deny it at first, thinking I was just going through some phase...but, then I stopped denying it...and I'm really happy, now."  
"As for me," Percy replied happily, "I knew I liked Thomas when we were in sixth grade. I didn't bother denying it or anything. I used to like to write stories about us being together...and I hoped that someday they'd become a reality, which they did.  
Why'd you wanna know?  
"Uh...well.." Duck stammered, "um…"  
"You're falling for Oliver," Thomas stated. "That's why you asked...isn't it?"  
Duck sighed.  
"Yeah, that's exactly why I asked."  
"Good for you," Percy said, and Duck could hear the smile in his voice, "so, you've found the one."  
"I think I have, guys," Duck replied, "they say soul mates aren't real, but…"  
"They're wrong," Thomas cut in, "I found mine."  
Percy giggled.  
"So," Thomas said, "you're in love with your best friend. Now what?"  
"That's what I was gonna ask you."  
"SIMPLE," Percy cut in dramatically, "just tell him how you feel."  
"What if he doesn't feel the same way?"  
"He might not, but that doesn't mean you can't be friends."  
"But, Percy, I'm having some trust issues with him," the Great Western admitted, "he has a retainer that he wears at night because his teeth got knocked out. He got beat up, but he won't tell me who did it. He has a huge bruise on his face, and, I'm not  
kidding, it gets worse everyday. He says he got it in a softball accident, but I think he's lying."  
"Okay, calm down!" Thomas laughed, "you're overreacting. The softball bruise makes perfect sense. I had a huge bruise under my eye for weeks when I played softball with my Dad. And Percy got his teeth knocked out by accident when he was little, and he  
had to wear a retainer, too. People get into fights, Duck. It happens."  
Duck nodded, feeling much more relaxed.  
"Yeah...you're right, Thomas. Thanks."  
"No problem. Hey, I got a question for you."  
"What's that?"  
"Well...if you two were in a relationship...who's the dominant one?"  
Duck turned a brilliant shade of red, and Percy could be heard scolding Thomas on the other line.  
"Oh," Duck groaned, throwing his head against the back of the couch, "my god."  
"Thomas!" Percy scolded. "Don't ask him that!"  
"Why the bloody hell not?"  
"Well, thanks guys!" Duck said quickly, not wanting to answer another awkward question.  
"You never answered me," Thomas said cheekily. "Who has the honor of being the man of the relationship?"  
Duck rolled his eyes.  
"It's obviously me."  
"Oh, really?" Thomas said, in mock disbelief. "Did wittle Duckie finally gwow up?"  
"I'll get you, Thomas Billington."  
"Get me, quackers."  
Duck rolled his eyes again, but laughed.  
"Whatever, big guy. See you two at school."  
"Yeah," Percy said, "bye, Duck!"  
Duck quickly hung up, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.  
"That Thomas," he muttered, "he's gonna be the end of me someday."  
Duck wasn't very hungry yet, so he got up to go take a shower. He snuck into his room for a change of clothes. He shut the door to the bathroom but didn't lock it, in case Oliver woke up. He took off his pajamas and stepped into the hot water. He shut  
off the water about fifteen minutes later, quickly dried off and put on his clothes. He ran a comb through his hair again before getting up to go make himself some breakfast. Duck watched his father sneak out the door from the top of the stairs. He  
rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what the man was up to. He walked into the kitchen,  
"Good morning," Marianne said, without looking up from the stove, "how'd you sleep?"  
"Uh….I slept okay, mum," Duck replied.  
"Just okay?"  
"Yeah...just okay."  
Marianne suddenly turned to him.  
"Son? Can I ask you something?"  
"Yeah."  
Marianne looked at him curiously, smiling slightly.  
"Why was Oliver in your bed with you?"  
Duck's face turned a deep red.  
"Uh….he-he had a bad dream...a nightmare. He was crying and...asking somebody to leave him alone...I didn't want him to have another bad dream, so I let him sleep in my bed….with me."  
"You two didn't do anything, did you?"  
"N-No! Of course not!"  
Marianne's smile got wider.  
"Do you like him, sweetie?"  
"Of course I do. He's my best friend," Duck said, as if it were obvious.  
"Montague," Marianne said in a teasing manner, "you know what I mean when I ask that."  
Duck stared at her in absolute disbelief.  
"...Please don't kill me."  
"Aha," Marianne said triumphantly, turning back the stove, "so you admit it. I was right."  
"You knew?!"  
"Of course I did. You think you can hide anything from your mother?"  
She walked over and patted his cheek fondly.  
"Yes...I can always tell when my baby is lying to me."  
Duck groaned, rolling his golden eyes.  
"Muuuuuum…..I'm not your baby. I stopped being your baby long ago. Bloody hell, I'm seventeen!"  
"Whether you're seventeen or ninety, you will ALWAYS be my baby, son," Marianne said. "Now, sit. Breakfast is almost ready."  
Duck muttered nonsense under his breath as he sat down.  
"Don't you talk smack about me, young man," Marianne said as she flipped something on the stove.  
Duck had to smile. His mom could be very strict with him, but he always knew how much she loved him.  
"So…." Duck said awkwardly, "you're...okay with how I am?"  
"With you sharing your bed with someone or the fact that you like boys?"  
"Uh...both, I guess."  
Marianne smiled to herself.  
"I'm fine with the second one. I'm proud of you for admitting it. As for the first one...that depends. But, I AM supporting of you, son. And I'm sure your father will be, too."  
Marianne cocked her head as she turned off the stove and started to divide the breakfast onto separate plates.  
"Speaking of your father, where is he? He got up about fifteen minutes ago."  
"I saw him sneaking out of the house," Duck replied, "he's probably gonna go fire up the engine."  
"Like hell he is," Marianne growled, slamming down the spatula and storming to the door, "Miles? Miles!"  
Duck shook his head, laughing. The few times his mom ever cursed, he'd always end up in tears from laughing so hard. Toad walked into the living room, rubbing his big gray eyes.  
"Good morning, Mister Duck," he said, yawning cutely.  
"Morning. Sleep well?"  
"Yeah. Is Mister Oliver okay?"  
That question struck the other great western.  
"Yeah…" He said slowly, "he's fine...and he's still asleep. Why?"  
Toad shrugged.  
"I just thought I'd check."  
That response is what struck him more than anything.  
"You hungry?" Duck asked.  
Toad shook his head.  
"No...I'm still full from last night. Your mom is a good cook, Mister Duck."  
Duck smiled, picking up his best friend's little brother and setting him on his lap.  
"She is, isn't she?"  
Toad nodded, sighing. He looked up at Duck with wide eyes, and leaned his head against his chest.  
"I wish my momma would cook for me like that."  
Duck frowned.  
"She doesn't cook for you?"  
Toad shook his head.  
"No...Mister Oliver's been cooking for me for years. My Dad cooks sometimes, but Momma hasn't for awhile."  
Duck looked down at him, full of sympathy.  
"When was the last time your mom cooked for you and your brother?"  
Toad shrugged.  
"I don't know. I haven't seen Momma in a long time."  
"What happened to her?"  
Another shrug.  
"I don't know...all I remember is lots of yelling...and Momma left and didn't come back. Mister Oliver knows why she left, though...but he always cries when I ask him. I stopped because I thought I was asking something wrong and I don't like it when Mister  
Oliver cries."  
"Oliver...cries when you ask him about your mother?"  
"Yeah. Every time...I wish I knew why."  
Duck instantly felt different emotions and thought different thoughts. Sympathy, sadness and anger for the mother's leaving all rushed through his blood.  
Sad because Toad was growing up without a mother.  
Sympathy because Oliver was forced to become the caretaker.  
Angry because she'd left them.  
Thoughts raced through his mind, one question after the other, with no responses.  
 _Where the bloody hell could their mother be? Toad's too young to be without one...Oliver practically raised him. But...where could she have run off to?_

"Miles, put out that firebox this instant!" Came Marianne's scream.  
Duck heard a sniffle and looked down at Toad in surprise.  
"Hey...you okay?"  
Toad nodded and wiped his eyes.  
"I-I'm sorry, Mister Duck...but...I miss her. I wish she'd come back. I'm sure Mister Oliver misses her, too."  
Duck brushed away a few tears that streamed down the younger's cheeks.  
"There, there," he soothed, hugging Toad close to his chest, "it's alright. I'm sure she'll come home someday. She'll find her way back, I promise. And if not...I'll always be here for you and Oliver."  
Toad nodded, nuzzling his cheek into the teen's shoulder. Duck felt tears soak his neck, and it strongly reminded him of the incident he had with Oliver the previous night.  
"Thank you, Mister Duck…" Toad whispered, "thank you…"  
"Anytime."  
The door slammed open and Marianne stormed back into the house, dragging her husband my the arm.  
"Marianne, please, taking my engine will save us money…"  
"As said the previous night, the engine is not yours, and never has been," Marianne said firmly, "we may live and work on the Little Western, Miles, but that doesn't mean that the engines that run on it are all yours. You can't take them without the permission  
of Sir Topham."  
Miles sighed deeply.  
"Topham trusts me….he knows I wouldn't do anything."  
"I know that he trusts you, but we're taking the mainline engine to the Great Western and that's that," Marianne said, "now, sit down and have some breakfast."  
Duck ate his two pieces of toast quickly, and thanking his mother when she handed him a mug of hot chocolate, and another mug to Toad. Duck put his dishes in the sink when he was done and looked up at the clock.  
"Montague, can you go wake up Oliver? It's time to start getting ready," Marianne said as she took a sip from her coffee mug.  
Duck nodded and grinned at Toad.  
"Wanna give your brother a good morning surprise?"  
Toad nodded enthusiastically and raced up the stairs.

Oliver was continuing his dream of holding hands and making out with his best friend, when Duck pushed open his bedroom door and Toad bolted for the bed.  
"Mister Oliver! Mister Oliver!" He cried, jumping up and down on the sleeping form, "wake up! Wake up!"  
"Hmmmm?" Came the tired response.  
"Wake up! You slept in, silly!" Toad giggled.  
"Hey!" Oliver laughed, grabbing his little brother to stop him from jumping up and down, "stop jumping on me, you little tyke! I'm awake!"  
Toad smiled and hugged his brother.  
"It's time to get up, Mister Oliver!" He said, jumping off the bed, "Miss Marianne made breakfast! Come on!"  
Toad raced out of the room, and Oliver chuckled as he threw his legs over the bed. He looked up, and looked right back down, scenes of his dream replaying in his head.  
If only….I wish they were real.  
Duck was smiling to himself.  
"What?" Oliver asked.  
Duck smiled, shutting his eyes.  
"I….I just wish I had a little brother, sometimes. You're lucky."  
Oliver nodded.  
"I really am."  
A sudden pain ran through his face, and he cupped his severely bruised cheek.  
"Ollie, I really think you should get that checked out," Duck muttered, feeling pretty concerned, "I think it gets worse everyday."  
"I-I can't!" Oliver stammered, "ummm….it's just taking it's time to heal…."  
"It takes a month for a bruise to heal?" Duck said smartly.  
Oliver froze. His blood went cold and the bruise throbbed.  
"...Shut up, Duck."  
Duck shook his head.  
"Oliver, it doesn't take that long for a bruise to heal. I've known you forever, and you had one when I went to the bookstore that day. This one, you've had for a month."  
"So?"  
"So, it shouldn't take that long to heal!"  
"It does if it's severe!"  
Duck sighed deeply, getting slightly impatient.  
"Look," he said, "were both Great Western. You've been my best friend since I could walk. I can tell when you're lying. You really must play a lot of softball to keep getting hurt."  
Oliver clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he turned away from his best friend.  
"It's not my fault…" he whispered, feeling a lump build up in his throat, "it's not my fault I look like...and it's not my fault he gets mad whenever…"  
"He?" Duck demanded, "who's he?"  
Oliver didn't respond, instantly knowing what would happen if he did. Duck immediately understood what was going on.  
"Oliver," he said seriously, grabbing his friend's shoulders, and turning him back toward him, "is somebody hurting you?"  
Oliver looked down, green eyes searching for a response.  
This would be the worst thing he ever did.  
Ever so slowly….he nodded.  
Oliver felt all breath leave his lungs when Duck pulled him into a bone crushing embrace. Oliver's heart raced at the contact, and his cheeks turned bright red. Duck was about a little taller than him, so Oliver sighed in a bliss as he was able to capture  
the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.  
"Who?" Duck asked quietly, "who's the son of a bitch who did this to you?"  
Oliver was surprised at his language, but sighed again.  
"I can't tell you."  
"Why not?"  
"Because….because…"  
"Because what?" Duck said softly.  
"...I'm afraid he'll hurt you," Oliver quivered, "or Toad...I can't tell you, Duck...not yet...but, I will soon...promise."  
Duck sighed and gave his friend a gentle squeeze.  
"I'm gonna kill whoever this him character is."  
"You wouldn't."  
"You don't know that."  
"Actually, I do. It's not the Great Western Way."  
"...bloody hell, you got me there."  
Both boys laughed with each other. When they were done, Oliver just stared up at Duck, and Duck stared right back down.  
There was no movement...at least not for long.  
"Duck…" Oliver finally said, "I…"  
"Yeah?"  
"...Nothing. Never mind."  
Duck shrugged  
"If you're sure."  
Duck left the room so Oliver could get dressed. Oliver gently touched the bruise.  
"I can't tell him," he muttered to himself, "I can't lose him again."


	7. Chapter 7

Notes: Hey, to all you reading this! How you liking it so far? Enjoy chapter seven, and feel free to leave reviews. But only nice ones, please!

Over at Thomas' house, Percy was working on his English homework. Thomas was typing up something on his laptop.

"You're parents must really hate me," he suddenly said.

Percy looked at him in alarm.

"Of course they don't! Why do you think that?"

"Because you spent more time at my house then you do in your own," Thomas replied slowly, "I'm not taking you away from your family, am I?"

"Of course not," Percy replied gently, "my parents love you like their own son. Honestly, they're out working a lot, too. So, I'm glad because I get to spend lots of time with you!"

Thomas smiled.

"Well...I'm glad. I like spending time with you, too."

The boys smiled at each other before turning back to their work. Suddenly, Thomas' laptop began to ring.

"What's that?" Percy asked.

Thomas looked up, eyes wide.

"Somebody's trying to video chat with me! Give me a sec!"

Thomas quickly accepted the call as Percy watched.

"Hi, Thomas!" Thomas' friend smiled, waving energetically.

"Hey, Ashima!" Thomas grinned, waving back, "how's India?"

"Beautiful," Ashima replied, "we just got a new Railway engine. It's beautifully painted! And the lines are packed!"

"Yeah, no kidding," Thomas grinned, "my dad's branch line on the railway has been packed. That poor engine has been running back and forth like bloody crazy."

"You're still obsessed with the branch line?"

"Is Britain the greatest country in the world?"

"No. It isn't."

"Yes, I'm pretty sure it is."

"And I beg to differ."

Thomas laughed, Ashima laughing with him.

"Oh, go back to your painted engines, princess," Thomas grinned.

"And you get back to your branch line!"

Thomas and Ashima both laughed together, until Ashima saw Percy standing a few feet from Thomas.

"Hey, Thomas, who's that?"

Thomas turned to grin at Percy, gesturing him to come over.

"This is Percy," Thomas introduced, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "Percy, this is Ashima."

Ashima smiled, waving.

"Hello! I've heard a lot about you! Thomas never stops talking about you."

"She's right," Thomas muttered.

Percy cocked his head, admiring Thomas and Ashima, heart pounding. He had to admit...Ashima was very beautiful. With long, black hair, a silk printed dress and warm, green eyes. The very first thought he had was:

 _Thomas has a friend...that's a girl?! He hid it from me?! Where...where and how did he meet her_?!

Percy suddenly felt angry, and he didn't know why.

 _What if they aren't just friends? What if they're close friends? What if this...Ashima...is trying to take Thomas from me?_

"What's the matter, Percy?" Ashima asked, "you're not talking much."

"Sorry, I'm really shy," Percy said quietly, glaring at her, "I'm not good with new people."

"I can see that," Ashima confirmed, cocking her head, "quiet type, huh?"

"Yeah," Percy said, still glaring, "I am."

Percy opened the door to Thomas' room, and began to step out.

"I'm gonna head home, Thomas. I'll see you later. And nice meeting you...Ashima."

Percy stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Thomas looked at the door, concerned.

"I can drive you!" He called out.

"I'll walk!" Percy yelled back.

Thomas' eyes widened at his tone of voice.

"...If you insist, Perce..."

"Is he alright?" Ashima asked.

Thomas sighed, cupping his cheek in his palm.

"I'm not sure, Ashima. I better go."

"Alright. Sorry if I did something to upset him."

"I don't think it was you..." Thomas said, mostly to himself, "I'll call you the same time tomorrow, though."

"Okay. See ya then."

"Yeah. See you."

Thomas closed out of the page and shut his laptop. He looked down at his lap, utterly confused.

"Did I say something wrong?" He wondered, looking up at the door, "what the bloody hell just happened?"

Thomas raced downstairs, only to find Percy gone already.

"Did I say something?" He wondered, looking around the room, "what made him leave?"

He poked his head out the door, but didn't see Percy anywhere.

Thomas shrugged, shutting the door.

"Maybe he left because he had to."

* * *

Oliver sighed as he leaned his head against the window and watched the world go by. Right now, he, Toad and Duck's family were all on the mainline train that would take them to the Great Western. Oliver was excited to be going home, but he was terrified  
/of what his dad would do when he returned.

He's going to kill me.

"You're awful quiet, dear," Marianne said, looking up from her book, "what's on your mind?"

"N-Nothing…" Oliver stammered, "I'm just really excited."

Duck grinned.

"Aren't we all. I've missed the place."

Duck glared at his parents.

"Remind me why we left again?"

"Too crowded," Miles replied, "you were growing up and we needed more room. Aren't you glad we moved, though? Look at the brilliant school you're in! Can you imagine the colleges that'll want you?"

"I guess," Duck replied, "I love video arts and all, but I love the Great Western more."

The train was coming to a stop, and Toad giggled excitedly.

"Were home, Mister Oliver! Look!"

"I see it, Toad," Oliver smiled, ruffling his hair, "brilliant, isn't it?"

"Yeah!"

Duck slid the cabin door open, waited for the train door to open, then they all stepped out onto the platform. The little engine whistled and set off minutes later.

"Well, boys, where shall we start?" Marianne asked.

Turns out, everybody wanted to do different things, so they came up with a compromise.

"Go do what you want, and we'll all meet back here at six," Marianne said, "it'll be time to head home, by then. Toad, do you want to go to the train store with us, or go with Duck and your brother?"

"Train store!" Toad said excitedly, taking Marianne's hand, "bye, Mister Oliver!"

Oliver, for once, was glad Toad didn't want to go with him.

More quality time with Duck.

"Bye, Toad. Have fun."

Duck's parents and Toad walked off to the train store, while Duck turned to his best friend.

"So? What should we do?"

Oliver looked up, thinking hard.

"You remember how we used to go to that lot where they keep all the engines? And we'd pretend that we could drive them?"

"Oh, yeah," Duck grinned, remembering the fond memory, "to the train lot?"

"To the train lot."

* * *

When they arrived at the train lot, Duck admired all the engines that surrounded them.

"I remember all these engines so well," he muttered, "we used to play in each of these and pretend we were stealing them."

"And we never got caught," Oliver said, laughing.

"Yeah, I was surprised, too."

Duck turned to look at a different engine, and his eyes went huge.

"Oh, my god!"

"What? What is it it?"

Duck grabbed Oliver's arm, pulling him close.

"I-It's the City of Truro!"

Oliver stared at the proud, strong, green engine in shock.

"The City of Truro? What's it doing here?"

"I don't know!" Duck cried, jumping up and down in excitement, "do you have your sketchbook?"

Oliver shook his head.

"No, sorry."

He stuck his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his camera.

"Here, I'll get a picture."

Duck nodded, leaned against the bufferbeam of the engine, and smiled. Oliver snapped a few pictures then put his camera away. Duck got out his phone and smiled again.

"Get in here, Ollie."

Oliver willingly obliged and took a seat next to his best friend as they took a selfie in front of the engine.

"This is the greatest day ever," Duck said, eyes glowing with joy, "I've really missed this place."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, "I have, too."

Duck leaned away from the City of Truro.

"What next?"

Oliver thought hard again.

"For old times sake...let's walk by our old school."

"Sounds good."

* * *

For the next few hours, the two walked by their old school, said hello to some old friends, and even came face to face with a former bully, who, luckily, didn't recognize them. They made some stops at the train store, and visited the art shop, Duck eventuallyhaving  
to drag Oliver out of there after an hour and a half. They stood on a hill that overlooked the tracks, and they watched all the engines go by as they worked. About an hour later, they treated themselves to some ice cream, then headed back tothe  
station to wait for Duck's family. It was already almost dark out, and the station was a lot less crowded, as so many people had gone home already. Duck went back to the train store for a few minutes, so Oliver stood at the platform alone fora  
little. Duck returned minutes later with a large bag in his hand, and only smiled when Oliver asked him what he'd bought.

"It's a surprise."

"It's not illegal, is it?"

Duck looked at his friend with a look of mock surprise.

"Yeah, it's totally illegal. The novelty train store is corrupt. Come visit me in prison."

Oliver laughed until his sides hurt. Miles and Marianne arrived then, and Marianne was carrying a sleeping Toad in her arms.

"Here, I can take him," Oliver offered.

"It's alright," Marianne said softly, shifting Toad in her arms, "I miss moments like these."

The sound of a train whistle echoed through the air as the little engine pulled into the station. Miles showed the conductor the tickets and they boarded, quickly choosing a cabin. The lights were turned off in the cabin and they all settled down.  
/It was about a two hour ride back to Sodor, and half an hour in, Duck stood.

"I think I'll go back and see the caboose," he said, opening the cabin door, "want to come with me, Oliver?"

Oliver jumped at the opportunity, glad for an excuse to get rid of his boredom...and an excuse to spend more time with Duck. The two walked through the rest of the coaches to get to the caboose. They opened the door, glad to see that it was empty.  
Duckshut the door behind him after they both walked in. Oliver walked out the end door and stood by the railing, watching the world go by, but go by backwards. Millions of stars were twinkling up above, and the sky was completely clear. The  
engine whistled

every once in awhile, making the scenery even more beautiful.

"Wow…" Duck said in awe, looking up at all the stars, "you never see this many stars on Sodor."

"No...you don't."

Oliver went dead silent for a minute, heart pounding.

It was time.

He had to tell him.

"Duck?"

"Yeah?"

Oliver shut his eyes, blood pounding in his head.

"I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Oliver gripped the metal railing so hard his hands went white. He'd never felt more nervous or scared in his life, except whenever he was around his dad.

"I...I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time...I was scared to, and by the time you moved away...it was too late."

"What is it, Oliver?" Duck asked kindly, making sure to keep eye contact, to let Oliver know he was paying attention.

"I…" Oliver stammered, shutting his eyes and looking down, "I...I acted weird around you for awhile before you left for a reason, if you noticed. Before you left...I realized I liked boys."

Duck's eyes went slightly wide, mostly because he finally found out what had been bugging his friend before he moved. He smiled.

"Really? I'm proud of you for admitting it. How'd your family take it?"

"T-They don't mind," Oliver lied, knowing it was the exact opposite, "they were very supportive."

"Good. Got your eyes set on anyone?"

Oliver froze.

Now it really was time.

"I'm glad we're alone," he said, "because...I don't have to worry about embarrassing myself in front of other people."

"Don't be ashamed, Oliver," Duck said gently, "I won't judge. Who is it?"

Oliver looked down, back up at the stars, then down again.

 _Oh, god...this is difficult_.

"Duck…" he said quietly, "don't you get it?"

Duck only grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"I think I do. But, tell me so I can be sure."

Oliver, instead of looking away, stared his best friend dead into his soul.

"It's...It's you, Duck."

Duck chuckled, looking at the night sky.

"So...I was right."

"I-I'm sorry…" Oliver said softly, looking away, "I know you don't feel the same way, but...can we still be friends?"

Duck shook his head.

"No. We can't."

Oliver felt his heart break into a million pieces and sink. The one friend he had was abandoning him all over again. Feeling tears build up, he shut his eyes in a hurry to hide them.

"O-Okay…" he whispered, turning for the door, "I understand...I'm sorry."

He was about to reach the handle when Duck grabbed his hand and spun him so they were looking at each other. Their chests were pressed together, and Oliver felt his heart race.

"We _can't_ be friends," Duck said softly, cupping his cheek, "because I DO feel the same way….I like you, too."

Oliver's eyes went huge as his best friend cupped his other cheek and brought him into a kiss. At first, Oliver didn't know how to respond, but seconds later, he was kissing back. His eyes fell shut as fireworks exploded in his head, his heart leapingwith  
anticipation. Oliver brought his hands to cling onto Duck's jacket as he hungered for more, and they both smiled into the kiss. Duck took one of his hands away to put around his best friend's waist, the other still cupping his bruised  
was pinned up against the door to the caboose as Duck began to take a little more control. He took Oliver's bottom lip between both of his own and nibbled at it gently, causing Oliver's grip on him to get a little tighter. Duck's hands wanderedup  
and down Oliver's sides, up to his back and back to his waist. Oliver just remained pressed up the door, just letting Duck kiss him senseless. Nothing, not even the Great Western, was more perfect than this. When the two finally pulled away, onlya  
trail of saliva connected them. The two stared at each other before Duck pulled him in for a hug. Oliver hugged back, nuzzling his cheek into the other Great Western's shoulder. Duck pressed his cheek against Oliver's head, eyes closed.

"You didn't have to wait this long, you know," he said, "you could've just told me before I moved."

"I didn't see the point," Oliver sighed, "I had your number and all, but, I didn't tell you because I knew it wouldn't work out. We were too far apart."

Duck smiled slightly.

"Oliver, I don't know if you've heard yet, but there's this thing called technology. We could've easily made it work."

Oliver found himself groaning at his own stupidity.

"I guess I never thought of it like that."

"And, look at us now," Duck said, smiling triumphantly, "here we are...together again."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, leaning into the embrace when Duck put his arm around him, "together again...for real. O-Only if you want to, though."

"Of course I want to," Duck said quickly, shocked that Oliver thought he would decline the whole thing, "I wouldn't have just made out with you if I didn't want to be with you, Oliver."

Oliver chuckled, putting his hand on the caboose railing.

"Touché. I'm...I'm sorry it took me so long."

Duck smiled, pressing a kiss to his head.

"I'm not. It was well worth the wait. I love you, Ollie, and don't you forget it."

"I...I love you, too, Duck."

With that being said, the two Great Westerns looked up at the millions of constellations, wrapped up in their own little worlds, as the sound of the little engine's whistle sang through the night.

* * *

Notes: And there's the end of chapter seven, and I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry to all who don't support Duck and Oliver, I just love these two so much! My friend and I came up with the quick idea and plot twist in Thomas and Percy's relationship, with  
/Ashima's communication with Thomas and Percy's (possible jealousy) reaction to it. You'll find out more about this as this goes along. Now, a shout out to some people:

To CyberSearcher: I read Steel Bodies, Human Hearts, and you're right, that author needs more support. The stories were **amazing,** and I loved them.

And to Duckfan13: Thank you so much for all your love and support, and I'd love to write with you some time! You're so sweet!

Anyway, I'll update soon for chapter eight! 


	8. Chapter 8

Authors Note: Oh my gosh, I am so sorry for the long wait! I've had practice every day for the past month, and I've been super busy! My deepest apologies! Anyway, enjoy chapter eight!

* * *

A week had gone by, and each day, Percy was getting more and more ticked off. Thomas had video chats everyday with whoever that Ashima girl was, and it was getting on Percy's nerves. Whoever she was, she was taking Thomas away from him. And Thomas wasletting  
/it happen. So, in return, Percy spent the evenings in his own house, in his own room, ignoring Thomas every time he texted him, saw him, or tried to call him. Right now, Percy was in the school library, writing furiously in one of his

phone must have gone off twenty times, but he ignored it. Percy could only describe what he was feeling as jealousy.

Jealous that he was loosing Thomas to somebody else.

Jealous that, unlike him, Thomas was surrounded by girls who drooled over him.

He had two little sisters that looked up to him, and Percy didn't have any siblings to talk to.

He was jealous because Thomas wasn't lonely.

Percy looked up from his notebook.

"I don't even know who this Ashima girl really is," he muttered, "why do I hate her so much?"

He sighed and shut his notebook as the bell rang. Time for Writing Class, at least. That would take his mind off the whole situation. Percy stopped at his locker, grabbed a few things, then slammed it shut...only to be slammed up against it  
recovering from the blow, Percy opened his brown eyes to meet Thomas' angry blue ones.

"Why the bloody hell are you ignoring me?!"

Percy only glared at him.

"Percy!" Thomas exclaimed, getting more and more impatient, "why won't you talk to me?"

"Because you're always talking to Ashima," Percy replied, voice thick with malice.

Thomas' grip on him slackened.

"Ashima? That's what this is all about?"

"Yes!" Percy finally snapped, "my god, you spend more time talking with her than you do with me!"

"She lives in India, what the bloody hell do you expect?"

Thomas was surprised when Percy gave him a hard shove. Students were watching at this point.

"I can't believe you'd hide that from me!" Percy yelled, tears swimming in his eyes, "all these years, you lied to me! You told me you liked boys! I can't believe you'd never tell me the truth! What the bloody hell, Thomas?!"

"Tell you what?!"

"That you have a girlfriend! You cheated on me!"

Thomas froze in place.

"Percy...Why would think that?! Ashima isn't my girlfriend!"

"Then why the bloody hell do you talk to her so much?" Percy demanded darkly, "I looked on your computer, and you've been talking to her every single day for a year! How did you two even meet?!"

"We met at the Railway Show! She was competing!"

"Well, than what's her relation to you? Why have you been talking to her for a year?!"

"She's my friend! I'm telling you the truth!"

Percy stared at him long and hard, debating whether or not to believe him.

"Thomas...you two are obviously in love."

"But, we aren't!" Thomas protested, still on the floor, afraid that Percy might push him again, "Percy, I swear! Ashima is my friend! We aren't dating! Why are you so upset about this?"

"Because you talk to her more than you talk to me!" Percy exclaimed, more tears building up, "honestly, Thomas, if you don't like me anymore just tell me! I bet she's not even your friend and you're cheating on me behind my back! What's so much betterabouther  
to the fact where you talk to her every single night, instead of me?!"

Thomas suddenly snapped.

"Ashima doesn't accuse me of doing things that I don't do, for one thing!" He shouted, jumping to his feet, "she doesn't keep secrets, and she tells me everything! She doesn't ignore me when she's upset and hide like a coward unlike you, and she'snot  
some brat who thinks she can just have me all to herself! She's not some selfish person who has no trust in her best friend, and above all, she's not you! I like talking to her more than you! You're just some whiny brat who thinks he's sotalented  
and deserves all the attention! That's what you are! A whiny, selfish, annoying, secret-keeping brat!"

Thomas' suddenly stopped dead when he saw Percy cover his mouth with his hands, tears pouring down. Thomas backed away, shocked to the bone at what he'd said. Students were gathered around, whispering in disbelief.

"Oh, my god…" He whispered, taking a step towards his boyfriend, "Percy...I-I didn't…"

"Shut up!" Percy suddenly yelled, more tears falling, "you just think you're so much better than me, don't you?! Than everybody?! Just because you can play guitar and sing?! Just because you're a musician and have family around to talkto?! You don't  
haveto just BEG for attention: you always get it! I don't have sisters, Thomas, or any people in my family in my age group! Call me a whiny brat, will you?! I'm whiny because I don't have any people in my family like that that I can talk to!I'm  
whinybecause I'm lonely and I NEED YOU!"

Percy looked down at him angrily, tears swimming in his brown eyes.

"Do you realize how lucky you are?! My parents are never home and I don't have any sisters to talk to, unlike you! You just don't get what it's like to be alone because you're never alone! It's hard to be lonely! You have no idea what it's like to  
/comehome to an empty house every day!"

Some tears spilt down. Thomas felt his heart split at the guilt.

"Perce...please…"

"Don't Perce me, Thomas Billington!" Percy screeched, clenching his fists, "you have no right to call me that anymore! I'm sorry I've been such a nuisance in your life, and I promise that I'll leave you alone from now on! You hate me so much? Think I'm  
stupidand annoying and stupid? Well...I'm sorry I disappointed you so much!"

Percy let out a sob and wiped his tears fiercely, only to have more fall. He began to push through the crowd of students.

"Perce!" Thomas begged, "please...I was mad! I didn't mean it!"

"I said stop calling me that!" Percy screamed, "stop calling me all together! We're over!"

Percy ran through the doors of the school and took off for home, tears flying out behind him. Students stared at Thomas in disgust, before a teacher's voice rang out.

"Why are you all still in the hallway?" Called Mr. Percival, "get a move on! You'll be late for class!"

Students muttered incoherent blabberings, but Thomas could catch an insult directed towards him here and there. James shook his head in anger as he walked past him, hand in hand with Edward. Thomas was surprised when Edward glared darkly at him.

"Wow," James snapped, "proud of yourself?" 

After getting more death glares from friends and other students, Thomas collapsed against the lockers, sinking into a hole of despair and disbelief. Emily, shaking her head in disbelief, was the only one who went up to comfort him.

* * *

Another week went by, and nothing happened between Thomas and Percy. No attempt to get back together, no apologies, nothing. Thomas had told Ashima everything, the whole story from top to bottom. She was a little embarrassed, to say the least. 

"So, he didn't believe you when you told him we were just friends?"

"No," Thomas sighed, wiping his eyes, "he thought we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Dating."

Ashima sighed, looking embarrassed and slightly hurt.

"I'm sorry, Thomas...I didn't mean to cause all this."

"It's not your fault," Thomas said quickly, "Percy's just….protective and quick to jump to conclusions...like you and I being involved with each other."

Ashima cocked her head.

"I can see why he would think that, yeah. With the constant communication and all, but...you and I are far from being involved. What else did he say?"

"He was really jealous," Thomas replied, "he wanted to know why I talked to you more than him, why I spend so much more time with you than him, what was so great about you, and all that."

"How'd you respond to that?"

Thomas sighed again, feeling tears of shame start to form.

"My response was horrible."

"Goodness, how bad was it?"

"I...I told him he was an annoying, selfish, whiny little brat who just demanded attention...and that I started listing off all the ways you were better than him, like how you don't keep secrets, how you don't ignore me, how I actually enjoyed yourpresence  
in my life...and just how you always used your sense."

Thomas buried his face in his arms.

"Cinders and ashes...what do I do?"

"Thomas, by the sound of it, this whole fight is your fault," Ashima said.

"Oh, gee, thanks."

"Well, you called him a selfish, whiny, secret-keeping, annoying brat, you basically called him stupid, and told him how much you can't stand his existence. Percy was jealous, but he didn't say anything mean to you, did he?"

Thomas shook his head, and he grit his teeth when his friend chuckled.

"What?" Thomas demanded.

"Well...it's kind of weird."

"What is?"

"Honestly…" Ashima shrugged, "I've never had anyone jealous of me before."

"Lucky you," Thomas muttered, "you've got nothing to worry about. Cinders and ashes, I was so stupid!"

"Then, Thomas, getting him back is all on you," Ashima said with a grin, "you gotta win him over again. Show him how much you love him."

"Well, how do I do that?"

Ashima smirked.

"I'll help you out a little. In case you've forgotten, you're a musician. Use that as your inspiration, and don't call me until you get him back. Got it?"

Before Thomas could respond, she signed off.

 _I'm a musician...so what? How can I use that?_

It suddenly clicked, and Thomas picked up his guitar. He shut his eyes and strummed the instrument.

"Hopefully...this'll get him back to me."

* * *

The next day, after school, Oliver was at work in the bookstore, and Duck was helping him out. They were stocking shelves full of books, and Duck found spending time with his boyfriend at the new joint in town was lots of fun.

"I can see why you like working here," Duck said, handing Oliver a book, "all these books...must be nice."

"Not as nice as the art studio back at school," Oliver muttered, "but I do like working here."

"It keeps you out of the house, at least."

 _Thank god_ , Oliver thought bitterly.

The bell above the bookstore door suddenly rang and Oliver looked up, only to be greeted by the sight of aheartbroken Percy.

"Aww, Perce," Duck said sympathetically, side hugging him, "how you doing?"

"I'm doing bloody horrible," Percy muttered, "right now, Thomas could drop dead for all I care."

"You don't mean that," Oliver said, sliding down the ladder on wheels that was connected to the bookshelf, "you're angry...you don't mean that."

"I don't care," Percy snapped, angry tears clouding his vision, "he hates me being in his life...fine. I gave him what he wanted."

"You gotta miss him, though," Duck said, putting another book on the shelf, "I mean...haven't you two known each other since preschool or something?"

"No," Percy said quietly, "long before that. Technically, we were meant to be together at birth. We were born in the same hospital, and our parents were already good friends before that...I met Thomas when I was only a month old."

"So, you're attached," Oliver said, leaning against the shelf, "why break the bond over something as stupid as a video chat?"

Oliver's words made Percy think. Maybe he was being stupid, after all? What if he'd just made a horrible mistake?

"I let my jealousy get the best of me," he admitted, "but...Thomas said some really mean things."

"But, you said it yourself," Duck said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you need him. I know you're mad, Percy, but...you need him as much as he needs you."

"Thomas doesn't need me," Percy spat, "he has Ashima to talk to. I'm sure he meant every word he said."

"Percy, people are gonna say things they don't mean," Oliver said, thinking of his dad and all the horrible things he'd said, "but...its best to move on and forget...if possible. I know Thomas loves you...and you still love him, too. Just give him  
/timeand this'll be over before you know it."

Percy finally smiled.

"Thanks, guys. I gotta head home, now. See you at school!"

Percy raced out the door with a wave. Duck grinned proudly at Oliver.

"Since when did you become so smart?"

"Way before you did, Montague."

"Hey!"

Oliver laughed as Duck pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"By the way, I can take you home now. Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago."

Oliver looked down at his watch, a watch that he always wore.

It was very special to him.

"Oh, yeah. It did...great."

Oliver signed out at the counter, threw on his jacket, and followed Duck out to the car. Marianne sometimes let her son use her car, considering he was old enough to have his own.

"How come you don't have your own car?" Oliver asked.

"Because why save up for one when I can just borrow my mums? And I take the bus to school, Mum takes me home, and I go anywhere else by train."

"Then why have a license?"

"...because Mum more or less forced me to get one."

Oliver laughed, leaning back against the seat.

"You could've just told her no."

Duck scoffed.

"I don't know if you remember, but you don't tell my mum no."

They were silent for a minute.

"Do you think Percy and Thomas will get back together?" Oliver asked suddenly.

"I don't doubt it for a second. Why?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Honestly...I think their relationship is really cute."

Duck smirked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

"You think their relationship was cute? You should've seen them before they got together."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They were the first two I met when I moved here. And I never saw one of them without the other. If Percy was coming up to see me, Thomas was always with him. It went the other way around, too. If one of them was sick, it was weird seeing the  
/otherone all alone."

"Wow…"

"Yeah," Duck sighed, "I'm hoping this isn't how it ends."

"I don't think it will," Oliver replied, watching other cars pass, "Percy even said they'd known each other since they were a month old...they can't stay mad at each other for long. In some way...they're kind of connected, y'know? Destined to be together  
beforethey were even born."

He chuckled.

"It's kind of funny, though, huh? How Percy mistook Ashima as Thomas' girlfriend? He thought Thomas lied about him liking boys? It's pretty obvious that Thomas just loves him more than anything."

Duck turned serious for a minute.

"Honestly, Ollie...I really can't blame Percy for thinking Ashima was Thomas' girlfriend...he wasn't kidding. They seriously talk day and night, and Ashima...she's beautiful."

"They talk that much? They must have a lot in common, then."

"Well...I guess you could say that. They have their obvious differences, though."

"And how do you know that?"

Duck grinned as he turned onto Oliver's street.

"Because I've met her. In person."

"Really?"

"Really. Thomas introduced me to her at the Railway Show."

"Is she nice?"

"Very. You'd like her."

"But...why did Percy get so jealous?"

"Well…" Duck began, "Thomas is obviously the pride of his family. Smart, good-looking, successful, talented...he's got a lot of people in his family to talk to. He has his cousin, who is pretty much the same age as him, his dad, his mom and his little  
's got family he can talk to. Then there's Percy, who has no siblings, family that never talks to him, parents who are never around and a dad who divorced his mom. And, Percy could've just finally gotten sick of all the girls drooling  
over Thomasand just had a breakdown. Percy's jealous because Ashima was taking his time away with the one person that he could talk to."

"The one person that loved him back," Oliver added on quietly, "cinders and ashes...I feel so bad for him, now."

"Yeah…" Duck agreed softly, "you really do have to feel bad for him. I mean...I don't know what it's like to be lonely, since I always had you, but…"

Oliver smiled, squeezing his hand.

"I get it...you feel sympathetic. You're a good friend."

Duck squeezed his hand back.

"You know me all too well, don't you?"

"I know you better than you would ever know yourself."

Duck stopped the car as he pulled up to Oliver's house. Oliver's heart sped up when he saw his dad's car in the driveway. Duck leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"See you later, Ollie."

"Bye...see you at school."

Oliver stepped out of the car, and looked fearfully at his house. His heart pounded, knocking against his rib cage. Duck watched him curiously, hands resting on the steering wheel. Oliver looked at him from over his shoulder.

"Duck...do I-I have to?"

Duck cocked his head, grinning.

"No...we can go to my place. Get back in."

Oliver clenched his fists, thinking.

"No...I-I have to do this. See you later."

"Hey," Duck called, "love you."

"Love you, too," Oliver whispered.

Oliver took his time getting to the front door, and waved a longful goodbye to his boyfriend before stepping inside. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it...only to be punched square in the jaw. Oliver stumbled away from the door and fell  
againstthe stairs. He hissed in pain, knowing he would only get another bruise there. His father was towering over him, looking furious.

"You little-" his father snarled, punching him again, "think you can spend the weekend away from me, huh? Where the bloody hell were you, and you better tell me the truth!"

"I-I was with a friend and his family," Oliver stammered, still cupping his jaw, "we-we went to the Great Western."

"Is that all?"

"Y-Yes."

His father growled, and landed a kick to his stomach. Oliver cried out and clutched at it.

"Man up and fight back, boy," snapped his father, "why can't you be more like me?"

"Because I could never be like you…" Oliver whispered, voice dripping with hate, "you're a psycho who abuses people that you know can't fight back. Take...me and mum for example."

He was met with a hard smack, but he didn't care.

"You're a bloody coward!" Oliver yelled, "you think beating up on your son will solve all your problems?! It'll make them worse! I'm glad Mum left...so she isn't hurt by you anymore! This family is all broken up...because you couldn't control yourself!"

It was a huge shock to Oliver when his father pulled out a pistol and pointed it right at him.

"Don't you ever talk that way to me again!" Screamed the man, "I've raised you since your mother left! If anything, you should be thanking me for taking care of you!"

Oliver only glared.

"Now, apologize for what you said."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"That's better."

His father landed another horrible blow to his stomach.

"Man up, and stop whining," he said, twirling the pistol in his hand, "you deserve this, you little prick...hiding from me...you're lucky I haven't killed your brother yet."

"No!" Oliver cried, jumping to his feet, "leave him alone! I told you you could do whatever you want to me, but, please! Leave Toad alone!"

His father smirked.

"Maybe I will...maybe I won't. Now, shut up and get out of my sight."

Oliver willingly ran up to his room, slammed and locked the door behind him. He fell on top of his bed, tears trickling down.

 _That...was too close. I need to be more careful._

Oliver pulled out his phone and looked at his reflection. Two new bruises had settled on his face, and his black eye had swelled even more.

"How the bloody hell am I going to explain this?" He muttered.

Thinking of a way to distract himself, Oliver took out his camera and searched through it until he found the picture of Duck and the City of Truro. Propping up the camera so he could see the picture closely, he began to copy it down in his sketchbook.

/

Well, who saw that coming? That's just a little idea I came up with! For awhile, I've had the concept of Thomas and Percy breaking up and Thomas having to win him back somehow. As for Ashima, she will POSSIBLY appear again in later chapters. And poor  
Oliver,

am I right? I'm such a horrible person! More pairings will appear here really soon, so be on the lookout for that! Anyway, stay tuned for chapter nine, and sorry for the wait!


	9. Chapter 9

Authors Note: Hey, it's me again! I didn't want to keep the wait too long again! I'm trying not to make the same mistake! Have fun reading this chapter, and feel free to leave reviews! Oh, and I don't own the song!

* * *

Days flew by. Winter had quickly approached, and little engines were rushing up and down the lines to get the rails clear. It was a Tuesday morning, and Duck woke up slowly. He peered through the crack in the curtains, and saw that big, fluffyflakes  
of snow were falling. In sudden alarm, Duck whipped around to stare at his alarm clock.

8:15.

School started in fifteen minutes.

"Cinders and ashes!" He cried, throwing off the covers just as his mother opened the door.

"Mum! Why the bloody hell didn't you wake me up?!" He demanded.

But, Marianne only smiled.

"I meant to wake you and tell you this earlier...school is cancelled for the rest of the week. It's supposed to snow for the next few days."

"...Really?"

"Really. You can go back to sleep."

"...Cool."

"Your father left early this morning to help clear the lines. I'm going to go to Wellsworth Station here soon...I volunteered to help with something."

"Okay, Mum...could I invite Oliver to come over?"

"Of course."

Marianne shut the door behind her as she left. Duck quickly got out his phone and texted Oliver.

 _Hey_.

He got a response minutes later.

 **Hi**.

 _We don't have school….you wanna stay at my place for the next few days?_

 **Sure I'll bring some stuff. I'll bring Toad too. I'll head over in a few minutes**.

 _Be careful the roads are probably icy._

 **Thanks I know. See you soon**.

 _Ok bye_.

Duck set his phone down, beginning to get ready for the day.

"No school for the rest of the week…" He muttered, "how many bloody times am I gonna have to push back the deadline for my video arts project? BoCo's gonna be ticked."

Seconds later his phone dinged again. It was BoCo.

 **I'M VERY ANGRY!**

Duck laughed as he texted back. BoCo was always too literal.

 _Calm down snow days happen. We'll get the project done_

 **I'M STILL VERY ANGRY** _!_

 _Go make out with Daisy or something, that'll make you feel better._

 _ **YOU'RE FIRED!**_

 _How do you expect to get the project done without me?_

 _ **I'LL FIND A WAY!**_

 _Good luck with finding someone who's as good as me boss :)_

 _ **GO AWAY**_

 _Aww I'm sowwy_

 _ **DUCK**_

 _You rang?_

 _ **UGGGGHHHH LEAVE ME ALONE**_

 _You're the one who texted me._

 _ **OHHHHH SHUT UP**_

Duck laughed as he tossed his phone onto the bed.

"Moron."

Duck threw on his jacket to keep himself warm, just as he heard the front door open.

"I'm leaving now, son!" Marianne yelled from the stairs, "say hello to the boys for me!"

"I will, and be careful!" Duck called back.

Duck heard the front door bang shut, and caught sight of the green mustang going slowly down the road.

"She's gonna get stuck in that thing."

Duck made his way down the stairs, and Train looked up from where she was sleeping on the couch.

"Did I say you could sleep there?" Duck joked.

The dog cocked her head.

"Well...I suppose it's alright."

Duck flicked a switch on the wall so that the fireplace turned on. The room was immediately engulfed in heat. Duck walked into the kitchen to prepare something warm, his little dog loyally following him. He got some hot chocolate mix out of the pantryand  
set it on the counter.

"I'd give you some, but it would kill you," the Great Western said to the dog, "and we don't want that to happen, huh?"

Train cocked her head, tail wagging. Duck grinned.

"You're so cute."

Her tail wagged faster.

"Yes, you are!"

It became a blur.

Duck shook his head in amusement.

"Why can't people be like dogs? Honestly...every guy needs a friend that isn't a human. It's just a better world that way, wouldn't you agree?"

Duck blinked suddenly, sighing.

"Why the bloody hell am I even asking you about this? It's not like you can respond."

He was just heating up some milk when the door was thrown open.

"Duck?" Came Oliver's voice.

"In the kitchen. Come on in...and leave your shoes by the door."

Oliver untied his hi-tops and set them on the mat. Toad quickly took off his own shoes and raced into the kitchen.

"Don't run, Toad," Oliver called out.

"Mister Duck!" Toad cried happily, jumping into his arms.

Duck hugged him close as he poured the now heated milk out of the saucepan.

"Hey, Toad. Hey, Oliver. How'd you two get here?"

"We walked," Oliver replied, leaning against the counter, "or I walked. I carried him."

"You walked here? In this weather?"

"Well, I don't have a car. And the only car we have is with my dad."

Duck leaned over the counter and touched his hand. It felt like holding a snowball.

"My god, Oliver, go get in front of the fireplace! You're like ice!"

Oliver smiled in amusement but obeyed.

"You worry too much."

"You too, kiddo," Duck said to Toad, who was perfectly content, yet freezing in his hold.

Toad obediently jumped down and went to stand in front of the fireplace next to his big brother.

"You guys want some hot chocolate?" Duck asked as he plucked some marshmallows from a bag.

"I love hot chocolate!" Toad replied, "yeah! I want some!"

"Me, too," Oliver said.

Duck brought them both a steamy hot mug and stood between them in front of the fireplace. Toad grabbed onto his free hand, and Duck smiled fondly down at him; he really did love Toad as his own brother.

"I can't believe it's already almost Christmas break," Oliver suddenly said, "it'll be Christmas here really soon."

"I know," Duck said, "the school year has really flown by."

The boys all moved away from the fireplace and took a seat on the couch, Toad sandwiched between Duck and Oliver.

"You're warm, Mister Oliver," Toad said in a thoughtful tone, his grey eyes wide, "are you sick?"

Oliver chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"No, Toad, I'm fine. I'm just warm from the fireplace."

"Mister Duck is warm, too."

"Is he?"

Toad nodded, leaning into Duck's side.

"Where's your parents?" Oliver asked, looking down into his mug.

"Dad's at work and Mum is volunteering at Wellsworth Station for something."

All was silent for awhile, except for the sound of the crackling fire.

"Hey, Toad, I've got all my train sets set up in the bonus room upstairs. Why don't you go mess around with those for awhile?"

"Okay, Mister Duck!"

Toad bolted off the couch and up the stairs in a matter of seconds, and then the two teens were met by the slam of a door. Duck turned to Oliver, who was still staring down into his mug.

"Are you looking for something, Oliver?" Duck joked.

Oliver looked up at him in silent surprise.

"You remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"The marshmallows," Oliver said softly, looking down into his cup again, "whenever you made hot chocolate for us back home, the number of marshmallows you put in the cup represented the number on my mother's tank engineback home. And you knew howmuch  
I loved that engine, so that's why you did it."

Oliver looked at the little pile of marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate.

"There's eleven marshmallows in here; that was the number on the engine."

He looked up at Duck.

"So, that means...there's eight in yours. That was the number on your dad's engine...and you loved that engine as much as I loved my own."

Duck smiled at how Oliver had remembered that.

"I'm surprised you remembered that."

"I'm not. I haven't forgotten anything you've ever done for me."

"They're just marshmallows, Ollie."

"They're so much more than just marshmallows, Duck."

Duck only rolled his eyes as he put his arms around his boyfriend. Oliver snuggled into him, his head resting on the shoulder of the other teen. They sat there in a comfortable silence, watching the fire.

"You sent Toad away on purpose, didn't you?"

"You're just now realizing that?"

"If you want to be alone with me, you could just ask."

"Well, we're alone now. That's all that matters."

Oliver found himself smiling as he leaned up slightly to kiss him.

"You really love me, don't you?"

"More than I could possibly say, Ollie."

"That's cute."

"Cuter than you?"

"You tell me."

"It's not nearly as cute as you."

Oliver laughed, and Duck smiled as he pulled the Great Western in for another kiss, Oliver shutting his eyes and kissing back passionately. When they separated, Oliver was resting his head against his boyfriend's chest.

"I really love snow days."

Duck grinned as he planted a kiss to his head.

"I only like it cause you're here."

Oliver smiled as he set his now empty mug on the coffee table.

"I never knew you could be so soft."

Duck rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Only for you, Ollie. Only for you."

* * *

Percy never realized how true loneliness felt until he broke up with Thomas. They hadn't talked to each other in about three weeks now; that was the longest they'd ever gone without seeing or talking to each other. Percy stood by his windowas hewatched  
the snow fall.

"Maybe I should just go over there and apologize," he said to himself, "he was mean...but...so was I."

Percy put on his jacket, deciding that was what he'd do. He sighed deeply, noticing how empty his room seemed. He was the only one home...and he hated the feeling of being alone or missing somebody. He pretty much had the whole house tohimself every  
single day, since his parents were never home, so he didn't know why he hadn't gotten used to silence and loneliness sighed, wishing that he had someone to keep him company.

He missed Thomas...an awful lot.

 _This...This is the longest we've ever been apart._

"I hope Thomas is home. I feel really bad, now…"

But, before Percy could open the door, he heard a familiar sound. He went to his window and looked for the source of the sound, only for his eyes to widen in surprise. Thomas was standing in the driveway, in the deep, cold snow, with hisguitar,  
smiling sheepishly up at his ex.

But, not for long, he hoped.

Percy carefully opened his window so he could hear better. Thomas grinned, shifting his guitar.

"This one goes out to you, Perce. I'm so sorry."

He strummed the strings sharply and began to sing.

 _When the world falls into pieces_

 _You'll be the one voice of reason_

 _When I can't face all my demons_

 _You are the one I believe in_

 _Through the thunder and the rain_

 _Together we fall together we fly away_

 _Hold me closely_

 _You are my one and only_

 _You're the Queen of hearts_

 _Make me your king_

 _You'll be the diamond_

 _I got the ring_

 _We could rule the world_

 _Own everything_

 _I'll be the Jay-Z_

 _You'll be the B_

 _Cause you've got me upside down_

 _I know you inside out_

 _They'll call me crazy_

 _But baby you saved me_

 _Can't you see?_

 _When the world fall into pieces_

 _You'll be the one voice of reason_

 _When I can't face all my demons_

 _You are the one I believe in_

 _Through the thunder and the rain_

 _Together we fall together we fly away_

 _Hold me closely_

 _You are my one and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _One and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _You are my one and only_

Percy felt his smile get wider and wider as he listened to Thomas sing. It was almost like the lyrics were meant specifically for them...and the song just fit the situation perfectly. Thomas smiled as he sang on.

 _You're Mona Lisa_

 _I'm Da'vinci_

 _The smile on your face_

 _Is all that I need_

 _You could be my wild_

 _I'd be your west_

 _You know that I'd be your_

 _Bulletproof vest_

 _Cause I've got you upside down_

 _You've got me completely inside out_

 _They'd call me crazy_

 _But baby you've saved me_

 _Can't you see_

 _When the world falls into pieces_

 _You'll be the one voice of reason_

 _When I can't face all my demons_

 _You are the one I believe in_

 _Through the thunder and the rain_

 _Together we fall together we fly away_

 _Hold me closely_

 _You are my one and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _One and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _You are my one and only_

When Percy felt warm, happy tears fill his eyes, he instantly knew that all was forgiven. Thomas smiled fondly up at him, feeling his own tears build up. Thomas couldn't decide whether he was crying from how ashamed he felt for breakinghis boyfriend'sheart...or  
from how deeply in love he was with him.

 _You're everywhere I want to be_

 _Even when you're far from me_

 _I still hold you closer_

 _Than you know_

 _Well even if you wanna leave_

 _I'd let you take that part of me_

 _I know that it would kill me_

 _But I'd swear I'd let you go_

 _When the world falls into pieces_

 _You'll be the one voice of reason_

 _When I can't face all my demons_

 _You are the one I believe in_

 _Through the thunder and the rain_

 _Together we fall together we fly away_

 _Hold me closely_

 _You are my one and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _One and only_

 _Oh oh oh oh oh_

 _You are my one and only_

 _(Oh yeah, that's the one)_

Percy didn't need to hear anymore. Feeling his tears of joy trickle down, he raced down the stairs, out the door, and into Thomas' awaiting arms. Percy cried into his shoulder, smiling the whole time. Snow clung to his eyelashes and cheeks, but thecold  
didn't matter at all. Thomas moved his guitar so it wasn't in the way.

"Cinders and ashes, I didn't mean to make you cry," Thomas said softly, hugging him tightly, "did you like it?"

"I loved it," Percy smiled, separating from him, "Thomas...that was beautiful."

Thomas smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Only the best for you…"

Thomas grabbed his hand, blue eyes full of longing.

"Percy...I'm so sorry. For everything I said, I was really mad and I promise I didn't mean any of it. I was just frustrated that you had so little trust in me...but I thought it was adorable how jealous you were."

Percy giggled.

"I'm sorry, too…" he said, "it was so stupid of me not to trust you and to get so jealous...over your friend that's a girl."

Thomas laughed.

"Well, she said it was all my fault that we broke up...which it was. I'm so sorry, Perce...forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you!" Percy laughed, jumping into Thomas' arms again, "after that show you just put on? Nobody's ever done something like that for me! Can you do that more often?"

Thomas laughed, hugging him tightly.

"Depends."

Percy smiled up at him, snuggling into his chest. He was so warm...

"I...really missed you, Thomas….I love you."

Thomas smiled and leaned down to kiss him gently. Percy stood on his toes and kissed back passionately, clinging onto his boyfriend, afraid to let go again. Thomas laughed into the kiss and brought Percy even closer to him.

"I love you, too, Percy."

The two just stood there for awhile, wrapped up in their embrace, as the snow danced around them in flurries.

"So, why don't I treat you tonight?" Thomas said, picking up his guitar, "let's go out."

"Really?"

"Really."

Percy squealed and hugged him really tightly. Thomas felt all the air leave his lungs from the tightness of the embrace.

"Percy...oxygen...can't breathe…"

"Oh, sorry!"

Percy smiled at Thomas again, but turned serious.

"But...before we do anything, can you call Ashima? I want to apologize to her."

Thomas looked surprised.

"Percy...it was an innocent mistake. She understands. And I know that, because I talked to her."

"Is she okay?"

"She's a little...embarrassed, but she thinks it's kind of funny that you mistook her for my girlfriend."

"Well, can you blame me?" Percy cried, throwing his arms up in the air, "honestly, you two do talk constantly! I wanna talk to her myself!"

Thomas grinned.

"If you insist. Here, if you fire up your laptop, we can call her from there."

* * *

The apology went very well. Percy and Ashima talked for a good hour and a half, and Percy was quick to discover that he really liked her. Ashima had a good sense of humor and was a great listener. She laughed when Percy apologized forthe mix-up,saying  
how she understood and she agreed that she and Thomas did talk day and night. By the end of the video chat, the two had exchanged phone numbers and emails, and even planned to video chat again the next day. Rightnow, they were In Percy's

room, getting ready to go meet up with James and Edward.

"Don't get too jealous, Thomas!" Percy teased as he sent a text message to Ashima.

"I'll do my best," he muttered.

* * *

That was...the fluffiest chapter I've ever written. I hope you all liked it! The song was "Queen of Hearts" by We The Kings. I love their music, and feel free to listen to the song! I love the Thomas/Percy pairing, it's always beenone of my OTPs,

right in front of the two Great Westerns. I'm still debating wether or not Ashima will appear again...so bear with me! You'll see more pairings appear soon, so be patient! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Author's Note - Sorry for yet again another long wait for updates! My AP classes are driving me up the freaking wall! In this chapter, things happen!  
Enjoy!  
=)

* * *

Nobody was that bummed out when school was reopened...seeing that they were going on winter break pretty soon, anyway.

"Hey, guys!" Emily called, walking over with Rosie in tow, "I heard you got back together!"  
"Yep," Thomas replied, wrapping an arm around Percy's waist, "were all better now. Just a little misunderstanding."  
"We both felt pretty stupid," Percy added on.  
The three of them laughed, except Rosie, who was glaring at Percy. Rosie had had the biggest crush on Thomas since they were little, and Percy had come along and taken him instead of her. She'd despised Percy since 'd never felt more jealous  
or angry in her life than the day Thomas had announced that he and Percy had gotten together.  
She was the only one out of all of Thomas' friends that hadn't applauded.  
"Hey, did you hear Duck and Oliver got together?" Percy said, trying to ignore the death glare he was getting.  
"Yeah," Emily replied, "I'm really happy for them!"  
"So are we," Thomas cut in.  
The bell rang and Emily ran off to get to World History.  
"Bye, guys! See you at lunch!"  
Thomas gave Percy a quick kiss, then walked off to his Astronomy class. Rosie glared at Percy, who sighed.  
"I've got to get to class, now. I'll talk to you later, okay?"  
Rosie rolled her eyes.  
"You stole Thomas from me," she growled, "he deserves a nice girl in his life, and that's me. I mean, look at what you turned him into."  
"Whether Thomas likes boys or not is not my bloody choice," Percy snapped, "look, Rosie, I know you love Thomas, but, so do I. And he loves me too, so you'll just have to accept it."  
"I don't have to accept anything!" Rosie cried, "he'll run to me eventually! You'll see!"  
Percy rolled his eyes.  
"I wouldn't count on it. I have to get to class."  
And he left Rosie, fuming.

* * *

Down the hall, the movie studio was full of activity. Students were runningeverywhere, while directors sat back and yelled demands up at the stage.  
"Alright, everybody, LISTEN UP!" BoCo yelled, standing up on his chair,"I just got word from a teacher! We have to have this show on the screen in one month! The crew and cast is having a meeting in the writing room! Set builders, light  
and sound crew, get back to work!"  
Duck took his place back in the sound booth and put his headphones back on. He waited for BoCo's orders.  
Next to him, Ryan dimmed the lights. Ryan worked with Duck with the lights portion of the set, because, you know, he couldn't exactly do everything by himself. Ryan was very kind and talkative, and Duck enjoyed working with him.  
"Ready," Duck said into his microphone, then flicked a switch.  
Down on the stage, the green screen lit up and Gordon, James and Rosie all started saying their lines. Duck couldn't decide whether or not they were doing well, but BoCo wasn't yelling yet, so he assumed they were.  
BoCo yelled CUT too soon.  
"That was brilliant!" BoCo exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Nice work! And any actors who are in the mountain train scene, they're ready for you in the green screen room!"  
"Has he decided whether or not we're doing The Great Race or Blue Mountain Mystery yet?" Ryan asked.  
"Blue Mountain Mystery," Duck replied, wrapping his headphones around his neck, "it WAS going to be The Great Race, but BoCo isn't big on musicals."  
Ryan laughed as he opened the door to exit the sound booth, before turning back to Duck.  
"Hey...your friend, Oliver...he gets really bruised up, doesn't he?"  
Duck sighed.  
"Yeah. He won't tell me why."  
"Well, I don't know why he hasn't gone to the hospital yet," Ryan said quietly.  
"What're you talking about?"  
"He came into math class today," Ryan replied, "he had three bruises on his face and a black eye...he looked pretty bad."  
"Did you ask him what happened?"  
Ryan nodded.  
"Yeah, but he didn't tell me."  
Duck sighed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.  
"He keeps telling me it's a softball accident."  
Ryan scoffed, reaching over to turn off the light affects.  
"A softball accident? That's his excuse?"  
Duck turned to glare at him.  
"What're you trying to say, Ryan?"  
"Don't you see what's going on with him?!" Ryan suddenly cried, "I've seen Gordon with softball bruises before! And the bruises Oliver has are nothing compared to the one bruise Thomas had. Duck, either somebody's hurting him or he's hurting  
himself!"  
Duck froze as he thought of what Ryan had said.  
"If somebody was hurting him...why would he hide that from me?"  
"He's obviously trying to protect someone," Ryan said quietly, "Duck, I think-"  
But, he didn't have time to finish, as the end of the period bell rang. Duck threw open the door and nearly crashed into Daisy on the way out.  
"Duck!" She cried, throwing her long, wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, "slow down! What's the rush?"  
"Sorry, Daisy," he apologized, "I...I've just got a lot on my mind."  
Daisy nodded in understanding, and walked past Duck to get into the Video Studio. Daisy's course in the school was also visual arts, but she made jewelry and was learning the ability to style. Daisy had been dating BoCo since freshman year, and they spent  
every day after school together, so seeing her in the Video Studio was never a surprise.  
Duck didn't mind.  
She was a huge help.  
Duck raced down the hall and went straight to his locker, trying not to be late. He quickly spun the combination lock and yanked open the old, beaten metal door.  
"Well, well, well, how's it goin', quackers?"  
Duck clenched his fists when he heard the voice of the one person he despised more than anything.  
"What the bloody hell do you want, Diesel?"  
Diesel smirked and leaned against the lockers.  
"So, how's your little boyfriend?"  
"He's fine."  
"You sure?"  
"Uh...yeah, pretty sure."  
"In any...pain or have any injuries?"  
"Why do you care?"  
Diesel crossed his arms.  
"So I can see that stupid look on your face."  
Duck angrily turned to him, slamming his locker.  
"Would you go away? I need to get to class."  
"You're the one who's talking to me."  
Duck rolled his eyes.  
"Just leave me alone, okay? I've got better things to do than talk to you."  
"Doesn't look like that. Where you going next? Behind the school to make out with your boyfriend?"  
"That's not a bad idea, actually."  
"You're such a girl," Diesel spat, "and he's a bigger one. He's the filthiest little shit to walk this earth."  
Duck clenched his teeth, palms bleeding from his nails.  
"Don't ever call him that again!"  
"Why not? He is one."  
"Oliver is not a-"  
But Duck quickly cut himself off, not wanting to say the word. Diesel smirked.  
"In denial? Take your time."  
"I'm not-"  
"Lies. All of it."  
Duck growled and gave him a hard shove.  
"Get out of my way! I need to get to class!"  
"Perfectionist, much?"  
Duck felt his body shake with anger.  
"Damn it, Diesel, just move!"  
Diesel shook his head and pushed him against wall.  
"You and your boyfriend are Great Westerns. Both of you."  
"So?"  
"So, you two disgust me."  
Duck shoved him again and Diesel let him go. Duck straightened his jacket, glaring.  
"And I don't care what you think. I'm leaving now."  
Diesel growled, cracking his fists.  
"You'll care once he gets beat up again, though, won't you?"  
Duck stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around.  
"What do you know about Oliver?"  
Diesel smirked, and Duck felt his blood boil.  
"Quite a bit. I know he's very...loyal and protective...and...a very easy target. He's a looker, too...which makes him...quite vulnerable."  
"Diesel, shut your-!"  
"Ah, ah, ah," Diesel mocked, "you might want to keep your mouth shut. You wouldn't want him getting hurt again, would you? Want to see more bruises on his pretty little face?"  
The hallway suddenly erupted in cheers when Duck shoved Diesel up against the lockers and started punching the daylights out of him.  
Diesel just laughed.  
"Are you the son of the bitch who's hurting him?!" Screamed the Great Western, "why? WHY?! I swear to God, if I find out you've been the one doing this…"  
"MONTAGUE PANNIER!"  
Duck brought his bloody fist back as he stared up at an angry Sir Topham, principal of Sodor Academy.  
"In my office. Now."

* * *

Ever since I came up with the idea for this story, I've wanted to have Duck and Diesel get into a fight...I can just imagine it happening! Here we have a goody goody getting antagonized by someone he hates more than anything, and then, before he knows  
it, the goody goody realizes that he isn't as goody goody as he thought he was. The trilogy between these two in The Railway Series was my inspiration. And by the way, I really like Ryan's character. But, like Ashima, he may or may not appear again.  
So you in the next chapter!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter  
=)


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note - This is the longest chapter so far! Just a heads up, I will not be updating again for about a week, because will be going on a trip with my school band! I'm really excited! But sit back and enjoy this chapter! It took me forever  
to write, and it's the longest one yet! Enjoy!  
=)

* * *

Chapter 11

" _What the bloody hell were you thinking?!"_ Marianne yelled, shaking her son by the shoulders, " _beating up another student?! For what cause?!"_

"Mum, I'm sorry!" Duck exclaimed as he twisted his hands in front of him, "Diesel really got to me! I...I think he's the one who's been hurting Oliver!"

" _You beat up a student based on an_ _ **assumption**_ _?!"_

"Mum, whether I was wrong or not, I've wanted to do that for years! What if he is hurting Oliver? If he is, I was only giving him what he deserved!"

Duck felt more and more anger build up as he thought of Diesel.

"He called Oliver pretty and vulnerable and a very easy target. If that's not saying something, I don't know what is! Mum...Diesel called him a piece of…"

But, he trailed off, yet again not wanting to say the word.

Marianne sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Duck, sweetie. Whether you think you're right or not, you can't fight with other people...even if they're rude and annoy you. I mean...you just got suspended!"

Duck sighed.  
"Believe me, I'm not proud of myself, either. But...god, punching Diesel felt amazing!"

Marianne sighed deeply.

"I know, dear, but...you can't beat up anybody based on a lucky guess. Your father's going to be home soon, and he's going to have a little chat with you, okay?"

"Okay...he's not gonna kill me, is he?"

"Don't be so surprised, dear." 

* * *

An hour later, Duck was in the engine hangar with his father. Miles was leaning up against his little, green Great Western engine, staring angrily at his son.  
"Dad, please, I didn't-"  
But, Miles held up a hand, cutting him off. He walked over and grabbed his son by the shoulders.

"Son...I am…"

"I know, you're very disappointed," Duck said quietly, "let me have it."

"...so proud of you."  
Duck was filled with surprise as he looked up at his father in shock.

"Y-You're proud of me?! Why? I-I just got a three day suspension from school, and you're proud of me?!"

"Son, you did the one thing I never could," Miles said, turning around and facing the engine, "stand up to a bully."

"I had to," Duck said simply, running his hand over the GWR on the engine's boiler, "he said some horrible things about Oliver."

"Did it feel good?"  
"Huh?"  
"Did it feel good? Punching him?"  
Duck smiled slightly, leaning his forehead against the engine.  
"Dad...it felt bloody brilliant."  
Miles grinned and clapped his son on the shoulder.  
"Don't listen to your mother, son. I'm proud of you."  
"Well...uh...thanks."  
"Now, you can go back inside. If your mother asks, tell her I gave you a really long lecture."  
Duck shrugged as he began to walk back to the house.  
"Whatever you say, Dad."  
The minute Duck got back to his room, he texted Donald and Douglas, who had been bothering him since he punched Diesel that very afternoon.

 **Hey we heard you got suspended! What'd you do?!**

Duck sighed as texted back.

 _I just punched Diesel...more than once. No big deal._

Seconds later…

 **I don't think that's the Great Western Way.**

 _...Shut up._

 **Aye don't go quacking on me. Quack** **quack you go!**

 _Oh my god Douglas stop just stop._

 **How'd you know it was me?**

 _Lucky guess?_

 **You're a good guesser then. Quack.**

 _Yeah yeah thanks_.  
 **Quack quack! We're proud of you!**

 _Thanks. Shut up now._

 **:)**

 ****

Duck laughed slightly as tossed his phone onto his bed. With no school for the next three days, he had no idea what to do.  
He was bored out of his mind.  
He sighed and took out his homework that he'd gotten that morning.  
"This is gonna be a long few days."  
He groaned as he thought of his video class and how he'd have a lot of work to catch up on.  
"BoCo's gonna kill me."

* * *

At the bookstore, Oliver was talking with Emily, who had stopped by to buy a biology textbook. Oliver had been stocking shelves when she came up to him, and they just started talking away to pass the time. The two had become friends about two months  
ago, when Duck had introduced them to each other.  
They hit it off right away.  
"I'm glad I finally met someone who appreciates literature as much as I do," she was saying.  
"Yeah, me too," Oliver replied, sliding another book on the shelf, "I thought I was alone."  
Emily laughed as he handed her the textbook.  
"Well, you're not. Honestly. Percy and Edward both really like to read...have you met them, yet?"  
"I've met Percy, but not the other one."  
"I'll have to introduce you, then! He'd like you!"  
"Thanks, Em."  
Emily cocked her head, her long, brown hair falling past her shoulders.  
"Hey...I've been meaning to ask...what happened to your face? That's a lot of bruises."  
"Softball accident!" Oliver said urgently, "I got hit! Why the bloody hell does everyone care so much?"  
He was surprised when Emily stared sternly at him.  
"Because your friends are worried about you."  
Oliver stared at her lamely.  
"Oh, yeah? Like who?"  
"Duck. Thomas. Percy. Donald. Douglas. Me. Even people you don't know. We're all worried about you."  
Oliver sighed, leaning against the shelf.  
"Well, thanks. But, honestly, I'm fine. No need to worry."  
Emily shrugged.  
"If you say so. But, if you're lying, we'll find out one way or another."  
"I'm not lying."  
Emily innocently held up her hands.  
"I know. I believe you."  
Oliver looked longingly up at the bookshelf.  
"You know…" Emily said slowly, "if somebody's hurting you or something...you could always report it."  
Oliver felt like his heart had turned into solid ice.  
 _Report...him? I could never...he'd kill Toad...he'd kill ME…I can't._

 **Ah, but you can** , said a voice in his head, **if you reported him, you'd never get any bruises ever again**.  
 _I only have three bruises. That's not that many._

 **What about all the bruises on your back? What about THOSE? And the cuts? And insults? Those are bruises, too. Emotionally**.  
 _No, they're not...they're just...nothing that leaves a mark._

 **You know, if you keep hiding this from Duck, he'll stop trusting you.**

 _I doubt he'd stop trusting me for trying to protect him. I have to protect my brother and my boyfriend...this is the only way how._

 **Do you hear yourself?** Snapped the voice, **Duck can protect himself. It's almost like you want your dad to hit you**.  
Oliver shook, and Emily looked concerned.  
"Oliver?"  
"Nobody's hurting me," he said quietly, "it was an accident. Okay?"  
"Okay."  
He was glad for a distraction when his phone rang.  
"Hang on," he said to Emily, sliding his finger across the screen to answer the call, "hello?"  
"M-Mister Oliver?" Came the terrified whisper of his little brother.  
"Toad?" Oliver said, immediately alarmed, "is everything okay?"  
"D-Dad...h-he's acting really weird...he keeps saying scary things and he's falling a lot…"  
 _Damn it,_ Oliver cursed to himself, _he's drunk again._

"He hasn't hit you, has he?" Oliver asked dangerously.  
"N-No...he tried to...but, I got away. I-I'm scared, Mister Oliver…"  
"It's okay, it's okay," Oliver soothed gently, trying to stop his heart from exploding with anxiety, "do...do you remember the way to Duck's house?"  
"Y-Yeah…"  
"Good. Listen closely, okay?"  
"Okay."  
"I want you to climb out your window as quietly as you can. I left your scooter by the garage door. Take it and go to Duck's house. And go as fast as you can, alright?"  
"O-Okay…." Toad whispered, "I-I'm climbing out the window now…"  
There was a few moments of silence.  
"I'm out, Mister Oliver...I-I'm on my scooter…"  
"Good," Oliver said, starting to feel more and more relieved, "get to Duck's house. Quick. I'll be home soon. And I want you to text me when you get there."  
"Be careful, Mister Oliver."  
"You too."  
Oliver hung up and leaned his forehead against a shelf, tears of fear and relief burning in his eyes. He got out his phone again and sent a quick text to Duck.

 _Would you mind babysitting Toad for awhile? I have to work late._

He got a response seconds later.

 **No problem. I've got nothing to do anyway.**

 _Thx. He's on his way on his scooter._

 **Ok Ollie. Love you**.

Oliver stared at the message for a second, taking in those two words. He felt his heart speed up again as he responded.

 _Love you too._

Oliver shook as he slid his phone back in his pocket and he quickly retreated back to Emily.  
"Sorry about that," he said, making sure to seem convincing, "my little brother just misses me."  
Emily laughed.  
"That's sweet. I didn't know you had a little brother."  
Oliver couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.  
"Yeah...he's eight. I look after him."  
"Awww. What's his name?"  
"Toad."  
"You're kidding."  
"No, I'm not."  
"That's his actual name?"  
"Yeah."  
Emily shook her head in disbelief.  
"That's….interesting. I've never heard that before. Other than Duck, I mean, but that's not even his real name."  
"Sucks that it isn't," Oliver said as he put another book on the shelf.  
"He should just legally change his name to Duck," Emily said with a grin.  
"Eh, he likes his real name. I know he does."  
"Well, yeah, but he likes Duck even better."  
"Trust me, Em, we all do."  
Emily laughed again, combing her fingers through her long hair. She followed Oliver to the counter to he could ring up the book.  
"Speaking of Duck, how are you two doing?" She asked, as she set the textbook down.  
"We're doing great."  
"Good. Any girls?"  
"Uh...no."  
"Fights?"  
"No."  
"Other boys?"  
"No."  
"Making out?"  
"Some."  
Oliver's phone dinged again and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket.

 **I'm at Mister Duck's house now Mister Oliver. He let me in**.

Oliver felt his head cloud with relief, knowing his little brother was safe. He quickly responded.

 _Good. Tell Duck I said thanks_.

A minute later, he got another text.

 **Mister Duck says you're welcome**.

Oliver had to laugh at that. He honestly hadn't expected Toad to tell him that, let alone send him the response. He scanned Emily's book and quickly put the cash in the register.  
"Thanks. Keep the change," Emily said, as she handed him the book.  
Oliver smiled gratefully.  
"You're generous."  
"Well, somebody has to be."  
"Hey."  
Emily waved him off as she gathered up her book. She turned toward the door and waved as she began to leave. But, she suddenly turned back around.  
"I just wanted to tell you this. If you're getting hurt...you don't have to stay with somebody who treats you that way. Because nobody deserves that. Especially you, Ollie."  
Oliver felt his body go rigid again, but he found himself smiling at her words.  
"Thanks, Emily. That means a lot."  
Emily smiled warmly, walking back over to give him a hug.  
"Bye, Oliver. See you tomorrow."  
"See you later, Em."  
The door fell shut and Oliver leaned against the counter, looking down at his watch.  
"One hour…oh, god, I'm afraid…"  
Oliver looked toward the bookstore door and smiled to himself.  
"She's really sweet."

* * *

Toad squealed in delight as the swing got higher and higher.  
"Higher, Mister Duck! Higher!"  
Down below, Duck laughed, reaching up to try and bring the swing down lower.  
"That's high enough, Toad. If you fell off, your brother would never forgive me."  
"Mister Oliver wouldn't do that!"  
"You'd be surprised, Toad."  
Toad giggled and jumped off the swing, right onto the grass. Duck smiled, reaching out a hand to steady the swing. The little swing had been made by Duck's father and hung in a large oak tree in the backyard, many years back when they moved in. Duck  
was glad Toad was having so much fun, as he'd had a lot of fun on that swing himself. Marianne came to the door, just home from work. She smiled when she saw Toad.  
"Hey, son. Hey, Toad. What're you doing here?"  
"Oliver said he was working late, so he asked me to look after Toad for awhile," Duck responded, chuckling when Toad grabbed his arm.  
Marianne smiled again, ruffling the younger's hair.  
"Is that so? Well, that's kind of you to take him in, Duck. But, you should both probably come in now. It's getting late and I don't want you two to catch cold."  
"Okay!" Toad said enthusiastically, racing inside.  
"I'm going to go change and then we'll get started on dinner," Marianne said, making her way to the stairs.  
Toad took a seat on the couch, Train immediately jumping into his lap.  
"Hi, doggy!" Toad laughed, petting her head, "what's his name again, Mister Duck?"  
" **Her** name is Train."  
"Oh! She's cute!"  
"Heh. Isn't she?"  
Toad squealed as Train started to playfully nibble on him, tail a blur.  
"Stop it, doggy! Stop it!"  
Train obediently jumped off and headed back to her dog bed, immediately taking tochewing on a bone. Duck watched in amusement as the younger fought to control his laughing fits.  
Toad suddenly sat up.  
"I forgot to ask, Mister Duck! How was school?"  
Duck found himself searching for words.  
"Well...you see...um...I didn't go to school today. I won't be going again for three days."  
"Why not?"  
"Because…" Duck began, but trailed off, "because...I got into some trouble. I was suspended."  
Toad cocked his head in curiosity.  
"What does suspended mean?"  
"Well, it means that you can't go to a certain place for a certain amount of time. I can't go to school because I made a bad choice. My punishment is that I can't go back to school for a few days."  
"What'd you do wrong, Mister Duck?"  
"I punched another student," Duck huffed, thinking of Diesel, "but, for a good reason. He was saying bad things about Oliver."  
Toad narrowed his eyes.  
"Why?"  
"Because he's a manipulative little bast-"  
Duck quickly stopped himself from saying a word that Toad could easily learn and repeat, and then his mother and Oliver would kill him.  
"Sorry. Because he's a bully. He's mean to lots of people."  
"Is he mean to you, Mister Duck?"  
"Yes. He's very mean to me."  
Toad looked up at the older Great Western, face full of utmost concern.  
"Mister Duck?"  
"Yes?"  
Toad twisted his hands in front of him, looking nervous.  
"Uh….why do you and Mister Oliver hug so much? Mister Oliver hugs you all the time, and he hugs you more than me….and he hugs me a lot. Why does he hug you so much?"  
Duck was a bit confused by the random question, as to why Toad was so curious about it.  
"It's a sign of affection," he responded, "we just do it to show how close we are and how much we trust each other. Why?"  
Toad twisted his hands in front of him again.  
"It's just...Mister Oliver has always told me that when two people love each other, they hug a lot and are always together. You and Mister Oliver were always together, and you hug a lot, and people who love each other do those kinds of things.  
Mister Oliver told me that people who are in love will do anything for each other, and will always protect one another, because that's just what love is."  
Toad looked up at Duck with big eyes, and Duck stared back down in shock.  
"So…" Toad said quietly, "are you and Mister Oliver like that?"  
Duck felt his mind go still. He and Oliver had been planning on telling Toad, yes, but hadn't been planning on telling him so soon.  
"Well...you might as well know," Duck sighed, sitting next to him on the couch, "yes, Oliver and I are like that. We've been like that for a few weeks, now."  
"Oh," Toad said quietly, "I thought boys weren't supposed to love each other."  
"That's just based on a factor of opinions," Duck said stiffly, "some people may find it wrong, yes, but others will often support it."  
"I'm sorry, Mister Duck," Toad said quietly, "I didn't mean any offense...I'm happy Mister Oliver has you. He hasn't had anybody in a long time."  
Toad looked up at him again, frowning.  
"Why'd you move away, Mister Duck? It wasn't fair. Mister Oliver was really sad, too...he locked himself in his room and cried all night long. And when he finally came out again, he looked a lot...smaller. After you left…it took Mister Oliver  
awhile to eat again."  
Duck felt his heart pulse with guilt. He'd never intended to make Oliver so upset. He never wanted to leave the Great Western in the first place.  
"I didn't mean to hurt you and your brother," Duck said softly, pulling Toad into his lap, "I didn't want to leave anymore than the both of you wanted me to, but...I've made some new friends, and I love my school, and you guys are here,  
now...I've got no plan to ever leave you two ever again."  
Toad smiled and hugged him.  
"Can you promise me something, Mister Duck?"  
"What's that?"  
Toad sighed, looking down.  
"Please...don't ever make Mister Oliver cry again."  
Duck was slightly surprised at the severity in his voice, but, he nodded, all the same.  
"I promise."  
"Good."  
Marianne came down the stairs then, out of her work clothes, and now in some comfy leggings and a jacket.  
"Well, Duck, let's get started on dinner so your father will come home to something."  
"Mum, he always comes home to something."  
Marianne smiled.  
"I suppose he does, doesn't he? Now, help me get started." 

* * *

Author's Note - There you go! Longest chapter is complete, and I hope you enjoyed the ride! I think the relationship between Duck and the twins is one of my favorites, and you will definitely see more of them in chapters to come. I actually  
have them written out into a main role in this story, as well as Emily. I really like Emily's character, and I strongly believe that she never "replaced" anybody. The story will take a huge turn after this chapter, so be prepared for more trouble  
and more appearamces from other characters!  
Until next time!  
-TheLittleReaderWriter  
=)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Oliver was shaking as he walked home. He was hurrying, because he knew the longer he took, the angrier his father would get. And, with Toad gone, he'd probably be even angrier. Oliver had made sure to delete his text messages with Toad from that day, in case his father were to go through them. He climbed up the rickety porch steps to the front door. His hands were shaking so hard that he found it difficult to control them.

"Calm down, Oliver," he said to himself, "it's alright, it's okay...Toad's safe, you're alright…breathe…"

Hands still shaking, he twisted the doorknob and stepped into the tense atmosphere. He set down his backpack and looked around, eyes wide.

There was no sign that his dad was there.

Feeling relieved, Oliver picked up his backpack again, and headed up the stairs. He opened the door to his room, and quietly shut it behind him. He leaned his forehead against the wood.

"So," said a soft and dangerous voice, "where you been, Little Ollie?"

Oliver felt his hands start to shake again, so he quickly balled them into fists.

"Working," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I've been at work since school ended."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

The man chuckled darkly, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Tell me," he said lowly, getting up off the bed, "if that were true, then, where is your brother?"

Oliver quickly pretended to look very concerned.

"H-He's not here? He ran off?!"

Oliver wanted to scream when his father grabbed him by the throat and pushed him up against the door.

His feet weren't touching the ground. Oliver desperately tried to get the man's arms off of him, but he wasn't strong enough. Tears pricked his eyes.

"Don't lie to me, you filthy little bastard!" The man screamed, "I know you know where he is! And, dammit, you're going to tell me! Now!"

"I-I don't know where he is!" Oliver cried desperately, "please, let me go! Y-You're choking me!"

"Exactly," seethed his father, tightening his grip, "I want to see you suffer."

Oliver panicked when he felt his heartbeat begin to slow down from lack of oxygen. He tried hard to inhale.

"My, my, what a delicious scene we have here," his father smirked, "you're finally getting what you deserve."

His father let him go, and Oliver fell against the door, coughing for breath. He lost his breath again when he was kicked in his stomach and then in the face. The man pulled a pistol out of his pocket and pressed the barrel up against Oliver's stomach.

"Now," snarled the drunk, "tell me where the hell your brother is."

Oliver didn't respond, so he was slapped.

"Tell me!"

"G-Go to hell," Oliver said bravely, "I-I'm not telling you anything!"

The man clenched his teeth.

"Son of a bitch, Oliver!" He growled, "tell me where your brother is!"

"Why?" Oliver shot back, "so you can hurt him how you hurt me? I don't freaking think so."

He was punched again, and blood trickled down from his eye.

"I swear to God, tell me where he is! I have a gun here, and I'm not afraid to use it!"

" _Then kill me!"_ Oliver yelled out, tears finally raining down, "god, haven't I suffered long enough with you?! I'd rather spend eternity in hell than I would another day with you!"

"You're just a huge wuss," his father said simply, "grow up and man up. You're just a little piece of shit who doesn't deserve to live."

"That's your opinion. I have friends who say otherwise."

His father snorted.

"You have friends? Don't make me laugh, boy."

His father turned angry again, pressing the barrel further into his stomach.

"I'm only gonna ask you this one more time. Tell. Me. Where. Your. Brother. Is."

Oliver grit his teeth, green eyes flashing.

"No, I'm good. I'd rather _die_ than watch you put your _lying, filthy little hands_ on _my_ little brother!"

Gunshots rang through the air. Clutching at his stomach in horrible pain, Oliver's world fell into a splash of darkness.

It was now ten at night. Toad was fast asleep on the couch, Train tucked under his arm. Duck was pacing the room, getting worried. Miles came down the stairs in his bathrobe, holding a mug of some steamy liquid.

"Son, shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?"

"Why?"

"Because, you have scho...oh, wait, you don't go to school tomorrow."

Miles couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's weird saying that about you."

Marianne came down the stairs to join them at that moment, also holding a mug.

Duck continued his pacing, getting more and more worried.

"Sweetie, what's the matter?" She asked.

Duck's gaze fell to Oliver's little brother.

"Toad's still here."

"So? What's the-"

Marianne suddenly stopped, seeing the problem.

"Oliver hasn't...come to get him, yet?"

"No!" Duck cried, but trying to keep his voice low so he wouldn't wake up Toad, "I haven't got a text, a call, anything!"

Duck's pacing started up again.

"Those bruises!" He suddenly exclaimed, clutching his jacket, "Mum, Dad, what if something's happened to him?!"

His loud voice woke up Toad, who sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Is Mister Oliver here?"

Duck quickly went over him, and bent down so they were the same height.

"Toad," he said gently, but firmly, "I need you to tell me something."

Toad was a bit startled by the firmness of the voice.

"O-Okay."

"Where did Oliver _really_ get those bruises?" Duck demanded.

Toad's eyes went huge and he looked down at his lap in fear.

"Toad, I know you're scared," Duck said, trying to stay calm, "but, this is _very_ important. Now, please tell me."

Toad looked up at Duck, eyes full of tears.

"M-Mister Duck...I-I'll tell you...even though Mister Oliver told me not to."

"Toad," Duck cut in gently, cupping his cheek, "you _need_ to tell us this. We want to help you and your brother. Oliver could be in trouble right now."

Toad took a shaky breath and looked up.

"M-My dad, Mister D-Duck...h-he hurts Mister Oliver. A-All those marks...my

d-dad puts them there! I-I don't know why, b-but he's done i-it for a long time!"

Toad burst into tears, falling into Duck's arms.

"H-He hurts M-Mister Oliver!" Toad sobbed, "h-he hurts my b-big brother! They're all over him, Mister D-Duck!"

"What is?"

"Those s-spots...they're everywhere! On his back, his face...th-they're all over the place! And all t-the red stuff...i-it's everywhere, too!"

"Wait," Duck suddenly said in a shaky voice, "Oliver got home late from work today, and your dad was probably home by then, so that means…."

Duck shot up to his feet in a horrified realization.

" _HE'S ALL ALONE!"_

"I'm sorry, Mister Duck!" Toad bawled, wiping his tears, "M-Mister Oliver was trying to h-help me! H-He helped me get out!"

"Oh, my god!" Duck screamed, whipping out his phone and quickly dialing Oliver's number. His heart tore into pieces when it went to voicemail.

"Oliver?! Oliver! Pick up! Are you hurt?! I'm really worried! Are you okay?! Where are you?! _Oliver!"_

"Marianne, call the police!" Miles yelled, tossing the house phone to his wife, "get them down to his house!"

"Duck, what's the address?" Marianne demanded as she dialed 911.

"2137 Rail Drive," Duck said quickly, as he dialed Oliver's number again.

"I'd like some police and paramedics at 2137 Rail Drive," Marianne said to the dispatcher, brushing her hair back, "my son's friend is being abused by his father….yes, thank you...and please, hurry."

"Let's go," Miles said urgently, grabbing the car keys off of the counter.

"Miles, are you crazy?" Marianne exclaimed, "you're going into a house with an armed man! You'll get hurt!"

"Not if I'm armed, too," Miles muttered, throwing open his gun cabinet, and taking out two pistols and a rifle.

"You're taking all three of those?" Marianne screeched.

"No," Miles said firmly, setting down the rifle and handing Duck the pistol, "this is for him."

"I'm not letting our son use a gun!" Marianne shouted, shoving her husband.

"He'll need to protect himself, Mari! You want him hurt, too?"

"Are you bloody mad?! He's not going! I'm going with you instead!"

"You're staying here," Miles said, handing her the rifle, and quickly loading it with bullets, "if this guy knows where we live, you need to protect yourself and Toad. If he were to show up here, he'll be here for Toad."

"Miles-"

"Bloody hell, Marianne, I don't want you hurt!" Miles exclaimed, shaking her shoulders, "let us handle it, alright? If Collett shows up somehow, use the gun, okay?"

Marianne sighed and nodded.

"Alright...please….come back."

"We will," her husband responded, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Oliver! Oliver!" Duck kept yelling into his phone.

"Son, let's go!" Miles yelled, "loaded up?"

"Oliver!" Duck cried into his phone again, "Oliver, were coming to get you! The cops are on their way!"

He shoved his phone in his pocket as his mother squeezed the life out of him.

"Montague, _please_ be safe. And please, try not to use the gun...but...only if you must. And for the love of god, _come back and be careful!"_

Duck nodded and hugged back tightly.

"I will, mum. I promise."

Duck and his father raced out to their car and took off down the road.

"Hurry!" Duck cried desperately, "don't stop for anything!"

On the way, Duck was deep in thought as Oliver's voice rang through his head. Things he'd said before.

 _Yes. Somebody is hurting me._

 _I don't want him to hurt Toad._

 _I don't want him to hurt you._

 _Don't leave me like they did._

 _I had my teeth knocked out when I was little._

 _They take a long time to heal if they're severe._

 _Stop...that hurts...leave me alone._

 _He'll never hurt you._

 _He's obviously trying to protect someone..._

 _Either somebody's hurting him, or he's hurting himself!_

 _Of course,_ Duck thought in horror, _he sent Toad to my house today because he was alone with their father...and he didn't want Toad to get hurt. He let his father hurt him, and protected his brother by sending him to a place that Oliver knew he would be safe...my house. In some way, Oliver trusted me to the extent where he knew I wouldn't get involved with his abuse and would keep Toad safe without my knowledge._

Duck gripped the leather door handle as the car tore down the road.

 _This whole time...for years upon years...he's protected me...because he couldn't protect himself. He lied so that son of a bitch wouldn't come after me!_

"Damn it!" Duck suddenly yelled, slamming his fist on the dashboard, "how the bloody hell could I have been so stupid?!"

Miles didn't respond, knowing it was probably best not to.

Ten minutes later, the Pannier family car screeched into Oliver's driveway. Duck could see another car there, and he felt anger soar through him, knowing who it belonged to. Duck could hear sirens a distance away, and he could feel relief coming through.

"Can you go in through the window?" Miles asked quietly, "there's a ladder."

"Yeah," Duck whispered, "I can."

"Be careful, son."

"I'll do my best."

As quietly as he could, Duck propped the ladder against the house base and crept silently up it. He thanked his lucky stars when the window wasn't locked. As quietly as he could, he let his feet meet the floor. He quickly got out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

"Oliver?" He whispered-yelled, "Ollie?!"

 _The sirens were getting closer_ ….

"Oliver?"

 _And closer…_.

"Oliver?! Please...it's me…"

 _And closer…_

"D-D-Duck?" Came a terrified whisper.

Duck turned and the scene made him want to scream. His boyfriend was sitting up against the wall, blood scattered around him in a scarlet pool of refusal. One of his eyes was bruised and bloody, hiding the beautiful green orb of sight underneath. One of Oliver's hands was covering the gaping wound in his stomach, and his hand was painted with the same scarlet that surrounded him. There was also blood dribbling out of his mouth, and he was crying silently from the pain. His green Great Western jacket was splattered with blood, and he was having lots of breathing difficulty.

For a minute, Duck was unsure whether or not he was going to throw up.

He could feel bile rising in his throat, but he pushed it back down quickly. Duck fingered the gun in his jacket pocket, feeling a sense of security.

"Pl-Please…" Oliver begged, "g-get away from me…"

"Oh-Oh, my god, Oliver," Duck whispered, his eyes starting to water, "holy…"

"G-Go...please...before he comes back…" Oliver whispered back, still breathing hard.

Duck cupped his cheek and hugged him as gently as he could, trying to reassure the both of them.

"Shhh….it's okay...I-I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? What the bloody hell did he do to you?"

"He punched m-me...and s-shot me...once, I think…"

Sirens sounded down on the driveway, and Duck could see the red and blue lights dancing over the walls. He heard somebody banging on the front door.

"D-Duck…" Oliver winced, more blood pouring out of his wound, "l-leave...I don't want you hurt….please…"

"My God, Oliver, I'm not leaving you here!" Duck cried, tightening his hold on the injured teen, "I'll bloody carry you out if I have to, but I'm not leaving you!"

"Duck...he'll kill you!" Oliver yelped, tears and blood trickling down, "you need to get out of here! P-Please...run away…"

"I _promised you_ the night that you had that dream that I would _never_ leave you ever again," Duck said softly, giving him a quick kiss, "and I'm _never_ going to break that promise. I'm getting you out of here."

Oliver smiled a real smile for the first time in a long time, some tears of pain turned joy now falling.

"T-T-Thank you, Duck….love you…."

"Love you, too," Duck whispered, planting a soft kiss on his head.

"Well, isn't that cute?"

Duck and Oliver stopped dead at the sight of Oliver's father standing in the doorway.

Duck jumped to his feet, and pointed the pistol at the abuser. His heart skipped a few beats when he saw that there was a gun being pointed at him, too. Duck hooked his finger around the trigger.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't little Monty, the Great Western who so graciously stole the heart of my son," the man snickered. "Haven't you grown. You've become quite a young lad."

"Well, I'm glad you have the decency to remember me," Duck snapped, "I'm surprised that you did, considering how _busy_ you've been beating up your own son."

Oliver's father only chuckled.

"Yes, well, he deserves to be treated like the piece of shit that he is. He is gay, after all."

"He's not a piece of shit, and there's nothing wrong with who he likes!" Duck growled, hand shaking from where it rested on the gun, "you beat him for _years_ just for his gender interests?! What kind of messed up psychopath does that?!"

"One who's trying to raise his son to have the _slightest_ common sense!" Stormed the drunk, "I suppose your father hasn't taught you the same thing? And, I don't think pointing a gun at me is the Great Western Way."

"You're pointing one at me, too, you bastard!" Duck raged, "and abusing your son isn't the Great Western Way either, mind you!"

"Well, neither is him existing," said Oliver's father simply, looking down at the bloody Oliver, "how the bloody hell are you still even alive?"

Oliver grit his teeth as more tears fell down, some mixing with blood.

Duck had a death grip on the gun by this point.

"Take that back, I swear to god."

"Or what? You'll shoot me? Run me over with a tank engine?"

"As lovely as those ideas are, I want _you_ to be the one landing behind bars!"

"Oh, please," the man scoffed, "the only place I'll be landing is in paradise, knowing I made _him_ suffer to the fullest extent."

"Well, _I'll_ be suffering for the rest of my life by knowing what you did to him and _I'll_ have to spend the rest of my life fixing him! He's scarred for the rest of his life because of his _own father!"_

Duck put both hands on the pistol.

"You may think you're going to paradise _now,_ but, when you see you have no boys left to hurt, your _heaven_ will become your _hell._ And when you get put in the electric chair, we'll all know _exactly_ where you're off to. And nobody _will care."_

"Whatever," Oliver's father snorted. "You don't scare me. If you don't back down right now, you'll end up just like _him."_

" _So be it,"_ Duck snapped. "You wanna kill me? Do it. I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

"You would," Dustin scoffed, "you know you don't want to die. It would take you away from your _precious little Ollie."_

Dustin twirled the pistol in his hand, eyes gleaming with hate.

"But, whether you're there or not, he'll just die alone anyway."

Dustin pointed his gun at Duck again.

"Like hell he will," Duck seethed, "I'm _always_ gonna be there for him. So, whether you hate who he likes or not, you'll just have to accept it!"

Dustin chuckled darkly.

"I don't have to accept anything. I accept the fact that he's gay, but I don't accept the fact that he's my son."

" _You bastard! I swear to God, I'll-"_

"Get away from the boys, Dustin."

Oliver's father whirled around to reveal Miles and two policemen. Miles had another gun pointed at him. Duck and his father made eye contact, nodded to each other, then turned their attention back to the main reason why they were there. Oliver smiled in relief, more tears trickling down.

He was saved.

Dustin laughed as he turned to the other man in the room.

"Hey, Miles!" He grinned. "I wasn't expecting to see you here! It's been awhile! What're you doing here?"

"I'm here to put an end to your crap, Dustin," Miles growled, pointing a pistol at him, "you think you could hide this from me?"

"Well, I hid it for years, so I obviously did a good job."

Miles' eyes flashed as Duck glared at Oliver's caretaker.

" _How long?"_ Duck demanded bitterly.

"What?"

" _How the bloody hell long have you been hurting Oliver?!"_

Duck felt his blood boil in anger when the man smiled.

"Well….I think since he was ten."

" _Six years?!"_ Duck screeched, "give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now!"

"Because if you go to prison, you'll never see Oliver again," Dustin replied lowly.

Duck's hands trembled.

"For six years...I moved away when I was eleven...and you've abused him ever since."

"Right."

"...And you're proud of that."

"Right."

Dustin smirked, twirling the gun in his hand.

"Tell me, boy...do you happen to know where my youngest son is?"

"He's somewhere safe."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Well, that's the response you're getting."

Dustin shook his head in amusement, turning to Miles.

"You've raised a fine young man, Miles. I wish mine could be like that."

"Oh, please," Miles seethed, "Oliver's a fine lad in himself."

"Oliver's _amazing,"_ Duck cut in angrily, looking down at his hurt boyfriend. "He's _brilliant."_

"Nobody asked your opinion," Dustin spat.

"I didn't ask for your bloody permission," Duck snapped back, "now, I'm going to take Oliver and get him away from this hovel. I suggest you let me get past you so nobody here gets hurt anymore."

"You're not going anywhere with him!"

Dustin snarled, "you have no rights! You're a bloody minor, and who the hell even let you carry a gun, anyway?!"

"I have _every_ right to take him out of here! I'll do it or die trying! You think I can't do this? Shoot me! Go on, shoot me!"

"Fine, then."

The safety lever on the gun was pulled back, but Duck didn't move.

"Montague!" Miles yelled worriedly. "Don't test him!"

He turned to the monster in the room, and raised his gun again. Duck saw his Dad's eyes flash.

" _You bastard, I swear to God, if you do ANYTHING to my son…"_

"Leave...him alone!" Oliver cried out, still clutching his stomach, "if you shoot him then I'll shoot you!"

"With what weapon?" Dustin smirked.

"Some things...are better off not knowing."

"You're such a pitiful liar," Dustin grinned smugly, aiming the gun from Duck to his son, "you can't take me out. The past six years have been obvious proof of that. And boy, did it feel great to listen to you scream."

Duck couldn't take it anymore. His arm jerked from the force of the pistol and a gunshot shattered the air. The bullet hit Dustin square in the shoulder.

"Montague!" Miles exclaimed in shock, as the abuser grabbed at his now bloody shoulder.

"Son of a-!" Dustin howled in pain, hand flying up to apply pressure to the wound, "you shot me, you little prick!"

"You're bloody right I did! And I'll do it again if I have to! Nobody hurts Oliver and gets away with it!"

"Y-You just…" Oliver whispered in disbelief, "Duck…"

"It's over, Dustin," Miles said lowly, "look around you. You're outnumbered. Back down _NOW."_

Both policeman had their own guns pointed at him.

Dustin suddenly dawned that he was surrounded. With two cops and both Miles and Duck pointing guns at him, he felt lost, for once in a very long time. Duck instinctively took a step in front of Oliver to protect him. Very slowly, Oliver reached up and grabbed his hand.

"Drop your weapon!" Yelled a policeman, "we have you surrounded! There is no way out!"

"No!" Dustin screamed, "I'm not going to jail! I barely escaped going there once, and I'm not about to do that again!"

Dustin looked desperately over at Oliver.

"Son, please, you know how horrible my drinking problem is! It was the alcohol! You know that! You know I didn't mean any of this!"

"You're pathetic!" Oliver screeched suddenly, startling everyone, "you've abused me for six years and you're asking me to cover for you?! You shot me and threatened to kill Toad over and over! Go to hell, and stay away from Mum! I'm sure she's just as tired of you as I am!"

More blood poured out of his mouth and stomach, eyes growing dim.

"Mum isn't here because you failed her! You failed me, and you failed Toad! You taught my little brother about violence and hate and I'll never forgive you for it! I hate you! _I bloody hate you!"_

Oliver coughed, more blood dripping out. He looked weakly over at Duck.

"I-I'm only here because of you," he whispered with a smile, "you-you gave me a purpose...and I love you so much for it….Duck…"

Oliver leaned his head against the wall, slowly slipping away.

"Nonononono!" Duck cried over and over, shaking him, "Ollie, stay with me! Please! O-Oliver!"

"Ugh...Duck...i-it hurts…"

" _Do you not see what you've done to him?!_ " Duck choked out, tears forming, " _look at what you've done!"_

"Duck, get him down to the ambulance!" Miles yelled, pushing him toward the door, "and be careful. We'll take care of this maniac."

Duck, as gently as he possibly could, picked his boyfriend up bridal style, who still groaned in pain. Duck almost fell to the ground, not because of the extra weight gain...but because Oliver was so incredibly light. Duck felt like his blood was going to explode in rage.

 _He starved him. That son of a bitch starved him._

"Montague! Go!" Miles yelled.

Blood splattered all over his jacket, and Duck grit his teeth together, trying not to look.

"Shhh…" he soothed, "it's okay, Ollie...I'm here...I promise...shh…"

Duck ran down the stairs with him, and up to the awaiting paramedics.

"God," whispered a paramedic in disbelief, turning to his assistants, "get him loaded up _NOW._ We need to get him to the Intensive Care Unit _fast."_

He turned to Duck.

"Want to ride in the back with him, lad?"

"Y-Yes...please…"

Oliver was quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance. Duck took his hand and squeezed it once they were settled in, feeling tears build up again when Oliver didn't squeeze back. Sirens blaring, the ambulance raced off into the night.

"D-Duck…" Oliver called out in his unconscious mind, "Duck…."

" _Shhh…."_ Came the response, " _I'm here….I promise...I'm right here…"_

"Duck…"

" _I'm here…always."_

 _I'm here…_

 _I'm here…_

 _I'm here._

 _Always._

The paramedic stuck an IV in Oliver's arm and hooked him up to a heart rate machine. The ambulance sped off. Oliver was breathing so heavily it was scary.

"Whoa, calm down," the paramedic muttered, starting to take his blood pressure, "you're lucky to be alive. Relax."

Duck squeezed his hand again, trying to get a response from Oliver.

No squeeze back.

"What's his name?" The paramedic asked.

He looked to be in about his late twenties, and was well built and tough, but had a very kind look to him.

"O-Oliver," Duck replied shakily, "Oliver Collett."

"That's a fine name," the paramedic said kindly, checking the blood pressure results, "what happened?"

"H-He was shot...and he's been abused by his father for six years…"

The paramedic pulled back Oliver's jacket, eyes narrowed. Duck's hands flew to his mouth and he _had_ to look away.

There was too much blood...it was _everywhere._ And that wasn't even the end of it. Duck could _see_ his rib cage, and huge bruises and cuts decorated his body. And most of them were _fresh._

Duck fell back against a shelf holding medical supplies and felt something rise up in his throat.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick…"

The paramedic smiled sympathetically, gently kicking a trash can toward him. Duck grabbed onto it and lost all the contents of his stomach, that he had been holding back for the last few hours. He did this for a solid five minutes before he finally leaned back to catch his breath. When he felt that he couldn't lose anything else, he stood up slowly. The paramedic's eyes narrowed as he applied more pressure to the gun wound.

"Well, well _,"_ the paramedic said lowly, pulling on some gloves, "you're a tough lad, aren't you? We'll get you taken care of."

He set to work cleaning up the blood and applied some antibiotics to the wound. He covered it up with some thick, white patches, which were turned red with blood almost immediately. In his unconscious state, Oliver cried out in pain.

"It's okay, it's okay," Duck said softly, squeezing his hand again, "you're okay...you're safe now…"

Oliver's hand twitched, and Duck stood still...until Oliver finally squeezed back.

The paramedic smiled.

"He your brother?"

Duck shook his head.

"No...he's my...he's my...my uh...my…"

The paramedic chuckled.

"I see. Well, how long have you two…."

"A few weeks, now," Duck said softly, "we were best friends growing up."

"Pretty close, huh?"

"Very."

The paramedic cocked his head in concern.

"You alright, kid? You're shaking an awful lot."

Duck quickly realized that the paramedic was right, and he put his hands on the stand to steady himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine...but, please, take care of Oliver. I'm just worried."

The paramedic nodded.

"Alright. You're a good lad, putting him before you."

"He's my best friend," Duck sighed, looking down at Oliver again, "I'd do _anything_ for him...even take a bullet."

The paramedic smiled, shaking some pills out of a little bottle.

"Would you mind waking him up? I need to give him these painkillers."

Duck nodded, and gently shook Oliver by the shoulder.

"Ollie, it's Duck…I need you to wake up, now."

The paramedic laughed as Duck shook him again.

"Duck, huh? That's your name?"

"It's a nickname," Duck responded quietly, still shaking Oliver, "Oliver gave it to me when we were kids."

"Why?"

"Long story."

Duck shook Oliver again, a little harder this time.

"Ollie….wake up...for me?"

A minute passed, until ever so slowly, Duck could see the green orbs begin to appear.

"Ngh…D-Duck?"

"That's it," Duck encouraged with a gentle smile, "that's it, Oliver…."

Oliver opened up his eyes all the way, clutching his stomach with one hand, Duck's hand with the other.

"Y-You shot him," Oliver said in a tiny voice.

"Ollie, I had to," Duck said gently, "I-I know I probably shouldn't have, but...he hurt you, and that just really set me off."

Oliver smiled weakly.

"I-I'm not mad at you…n-never mad at you...is Toad okay?"

"He's fine. He's at the house with mum right now."

"T-Thank you….a-are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. And I'm more worried about you."

"B-But...h-he was pointing a-a gun at you…"

"I'm fine, I promise. You need to take these painkillers, okay?"

"Okay…"

Oliver gently took the painkillers and swallowed them. Duck tipped his head back and poured some water down his throat. Oliver sighed when the pain began to slowly melt away.

"W-Where's…" He began, but trailed off, more tears building up.

"He's gone," Duck said urgently, "it's okay, I'm here, you're safe. H-He can't hurt you anymore."

"W-What about your dad?"

"He's fine," Duck said quickly, trying to make himself sincere, "he will be. But, listen to me, it's over, okay? It's over. We've got you, and we'll protect you. You'll be fine, I promise….just...breathe, okay?"

"I-Is Toad….safe?"

"Of course he is. He's at my house and Mum has a gun in case something happens. He's safe...and so are you."

Oliver nodded meekly, and fell right back into unconsciousness, his grip on Duck's hand slackening.

"Oliver!" Duck cried in alarm.

"It okay!" The paramedic soothed quickly, "it's good that he's asleep. He's not in pain that way...and his body needs to rebuild strength."

Duck nodded and quickly calmed down, as the paramedic shook out more painkillers. He handed them to Duck.

"In case he wakes up, give him these."

After he pocketed the pills, Duck took Oliver's hand again, and turned toward the paramedic.

"I can't thank you enough for taking care of him, sir...if I may ask, what's your name?"

The paramedic smiled, and shook his hand.

"Gator. My name is Gator. But, like you, it's just a nickname. How I got it is also a long story."

The ambulance hit a bump in the road and Duck grabbed onto the table to keep himself standing.

"Nearly there, lads," Gator muttered. "Nearly there…"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Duck watched sadly as the doors to the emergency operation room swung shut. He tried desperately to get to Oliver, but he was being held back some nurses.

" _Oliver!_ " He cried out in desperation.

"Stay back, lad!" Said one nurse, "you can't go back there!"

"He needs me!"

"You'll see him later! Now, please, go wait in his assigned room."

Duck sighed in bitter defeat as he walked off. Biting back tears, he fished his phone out of his pocket and called his Dad.

"Son?" Came his voice.

Duck felt his heart lighten with relief.

"Hey, Dad. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. After you left, Dustin was tased and he fell unconscious. The cops put handcuffs on him and took him to the station. Due to the severity of the situation, his trial is next week."

" _Next week?!"_ Duck cried, gripping his phone, "Oliver...he...he won't be ready!"

"They know that, son. I'm sure they'll understand. Where is he, now?"

Feeling tears brim up again, Duck turned to the door.

"He's in surgery right now. They're trying to get the bullet out of him…"

On the other line, Miles sighed deeply, shutting his eyes for a brief second.

"I need to know, son," Miles said, "are _**you**_ okay?"

There was silence on the other end.

Then…

"I can hear my heart pounding, Dad. I'm dizzy…"

"You've been through a lot, Montague...you might want to take a break."

"...I can't feel my hands, Dad."

"You're okay, lad. You're just in shock."

"Dad….where are you?"

"I'm in the car. On my way to check on your mother and Toad."

Duck dug his nails into his palms, and felt blood trickle down his fingertips.

"Where are _you?"_ Miles asked.

"T-The hospital," Duck muttered, feeling his hands and legs shake, "Oliver's gonna be in surgery for awhile...then he'll sleep...I-I think I'll come home, now."

"You're in no condition to be walking around," Miles said sternly. "I'll come get you."

"It's okay," Duck said softly, not even recognizing his own voice, "I'll take the ten o' clock train to Arlesburgh...and home is only about a fifteen minute walk from there."

Miles considered this. He didn't want Duck walking around while he was like this, but, he knew that his son was responsible enough to take care of himself.

"Alright, Montague. But, _be careful."_

"I will."

Duck quickly hung up, and, taking a deep breath, made his way to the hospital door.

The train swept into the station, steam billowing everywhere. Duck wrapped his jacket tightly around him as he boarded. His hand was still bleeding from where he had dug his nails into it. Duck took no notice of the engine pulling the train, as the whistle sounded, and the engine pushed off. Duck leaned his head against the window, watching the dark world fly by. He tried so hard not to shut his eyes or even blink, because, every time he did, he would just see all the blood. Duck looked down, and his eyes widened when he saw that both of his hands were covered in it. But, this was the thought that scared him the most:

 _Is this my blood...or Oliver's?_

He looked down and almost screamed. There was blood all over the front of his jacket.

 _Look away...look away...look away NOW._

Duck shut his eyes, but, reopened them in a flash.

He saw even more.

He saw the things he didn't want to see.

Oliver and blood. The sound of a gun going off. Those were the three things playing in his head.

Duck's head was still spinning as he looked out the window. He thought of Oliver, and how scared he must had been for years. All those bruises...the blood….the reason Oliver was hurt was because someone who was supposed to love him...didn't.

 _He didn't...doesn't deserve that. I should've killed that bastard when I had the chance._

Duck couldn't imagine how terrified Oliver must have felt when it was time to go home at the end of a school day. He couldn't imagine what being abused by a parent felt like.

 _Please, Dad…please promise you'll never do that to me._

Duck instinctively reached a hand into his pocket, eyes almost blowing up when he felt something metal.

 _The gun was still in his pocket._

Holding back a scream, he clenched his teeth as he walked onto the platform when the train came to a stop, because he refused to let that abuser win. Duck took a deep breath and started reciting song lyrics in his head, because he refused to let the abuser win. There was a song he used to listen to...about love and life and friends and never giving up. About failure and heartbreak. He was reciting it now, trying to make himself believe that everything would be okay.

 _Say something I'm giving up on you._

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

Duck but his lip, feeling tears burn from the reality of the song.

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

Oh, the irony...why did it have to be Oliver that suffered?

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

By the time Duck was leaving the station, he began to see colors dancing before his eyes.

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

His head pounded and he felt himself begin to shut down.

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

He saw the blood...all over the platform, his hands...the ground was coated. Maybe if he'd gotten there sooner...

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

He saw red.

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you._

And then he saw blackness.

 _I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you…._

 _Say something, Ollie…._

Duck slowly opened his eyes, head still pounding with pain. He tried to sit up, but, his head throbbed and he hissed in pain. He looked around. He was in a room, with all black furniture and two windows. He was in the bed, all covered up and cozy.

"Where the bloody hell am I?"

"You're at me house, Dook. You're in me and Donnie's room."

Duck looked over to see Douglas leaning in the doorway, holding a steaming hot washcloth.

"D-Douglas?"

"Aye," Douglas said gently, walking into the room. "Ye scared us."

"Why?" Duck asked.

Douglas gently laid the washcloth on his friend's forehead, and Duck sighed when he felt the pain melt away.

"Ye fell," Douglas explained, "ye were unconscious. Ye passed out from shock, we think. And...ye hit yer head. Mum says ye got a pretty bad concussion...she was a nurse. Ye gave us quite the fright….ahm glad that Donnie and I were pulling the ten o'clock train last night...I dinnae what would've happened if we didn't find ye."

"Y-You found me? And you guys were driving the engine pulling the train?"

"Aye. Sir Topham asked us...yon Connor was out sick, so we stepped up to pull it. Ahm glad we did...we wouldn't have found ye."

"Where did you find me?"

"On the sidewalk leading away from the station. Donnie had parked the car a few blocks down...ye were lying there. And ye weren't moving. Then we saw all the blood on yer jacket...we thought ye were dead. Ye gave us quite the scare. We carried ye to the car and drove straight home."

Duck leaned his head back against the pillow, head burning with fiery pain.

"Mind yer head," Douglas said with a sympathetic smile, "ye hit it pretty hard...or mum said ye did."

Duck reached up and fingered the bandage on his head. Pain rang through him, and he sat up in alarm.

"Cinders and ashes, Dook, lay back doon," Douglas said urgently, gently pushing him back down, "ye need to rest. Donnie already called yer parents. They know yer safe. We'll take care of ye."

Duck grit his teeth as pain from the concussion made his head spin. Douglas handed him some painkillers and some water, which he quickly gulped down. Donald came in then, and he shut the door behind him, so himself, Douglas and Duck were all alone. Duck slowly sat up, leaning against the bed's headboard. The twins sat on either side of the Great Western, whose head was down. They were silent for a few minutes.

"Yer awful quiet, Dook," Donald said.

"He was talkin' a minute agoo," Douglas said.

They were quiet again.

"Dook?" Said Donald.

"Hmmm?" Duck muttered, resting his cheek in his palm.

"Would ye mind telling us what the bloody hell happened?"

Duck froze, not wanting to recount anything. But, he knew better than to hide anything from the Scottish twins, who had known him for awhile now, and could read him like a book. So, he began to tell them everything, from finding out Oliver was abused to waking up in the room after he was found.

The twins were dead silent.

"So that's why I found a gun in yer pocket," Donald whispered, "ye shot a man."

"I had to," Duck said quietly.

"Ye didn't have to," Douglas said in a small voice, "ye chose to...and…"

"We're bloody proud of ye," Donald cut in, wrapping an arm around the Great Western's shoulders, and Douglas brought his own arm around Duck.

Duck couldn't help but grin when the twins gave him a squeeze.

"I just can't believe ye shot a man," Donald said with wide eyes.

"He hurt Oliver," Duck said with a sad smile, "I only gave him what he deserved."

The twins looked at each other.

"Is that the Great Western Way?" Donald asked.

Douglas grinned at his brother, then proudly at Duck.

"Great Western Way, indeed."

Duck buried his eyes into his knees and curled himself into a ball. The twins fell silent and squeezed him again. Duck's head fell on Douglas' shoulder, and Donald soothingly rubbed his back as his shoulders started to shake.

"It's alright, yon Duckie," Donald said gently, "it's alright...yon Oliver will be fine."

"B-Blood…" Duck muttered, "i-it was everywhere…"

"There, there, lad," Douglas soothed, hugging him to his chest, "were here to protect ye. Ye don't need that gun to be safe aroond here."

Duck found himself smiling as he leaned into Donald's shoulder instead.

"Donald...Douglas….what day is it? And what time?"

"It's two-thirty," Donald said, "today's Friday, and you've been asleep since Thursday night. Ye were so sound asleep...a bloody steam engine couldn't wake ye up."

Duck felt his head pound again, and he groaned in pain. His eyelids felt as heavy as cement and he suddenly felt very sleepy.

"What's wrong with me?" He muttered aloud.

"Lad, yer not well," Douglas said in an oddly soft voice, as he and his twin pushed the teen back down onto the bed, "ye need to rest...after all ye have been through...ye must be so tired."

Douglas laid a hand on his friend's forehead, and his black eyes looked down in concern. He looked up at his twin.

"He's awful hot…"

"Is he? Let me feel."

Douglas took his hand away and Donald put his own in his twin's place. Duck sighed at the coolness of his hand.

"Aye, he is warm…" Donald muttered, "ye might be commin' down with somethin' Dook. Rest up, aye?"

Duck looked up at the Scottish twins, eyes glowing with a tiny smile, his head ringing.

"Thanks, guys…"

Donald nodded as he cupped the Great Western's cheek.

"Go to sleep," he said gently, "ye need to rest."

Duck nuzzled into the soft pillow, feeling himself begin to nod off. The twins both gave him one last hug as he drifted into slumber.

"Sleep well, ye quack."

When Duck woke up again, it was dark outside and Donald was sitting in a chair in the corner, polishing his camera. Duck didn't know why, but, he was freezing. He put a hand to his forehead, and it was burning hot at the touch. He was still feeling dizzy and lightheaded. For a minute, Duck just watched Donald polish his very expensive, professional camera.

"Gotta get ye clean," he was saying, "gotta keep ye pretty for class."

He looked up from his camera.

"Oh, yer awake again. Did ye sleep well?"

"Yeah...thanks for lending me your bed."

"Me pleasure, lad."

Duck rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning.

"Hey, Donald?"

"Yeah, Dook?"

"Earlier, Douglas said I was in yours and his' room. Do you two...share a bed?"

"Aye, we do," Donald replied, not looking bothered in the slightest, "were brudders, twins...we dinnae mind at all. This is only a two bedroom house...and this room is a wee bit small for bunk beds. So, we got one full bed, and Douggie and I share it."

"Ah, I see. That's nice that you two are that close to do that. Not a lot of siblings would be comfortable with that."

Donald smirked.

"Oh, as if ye and yon Oliver haven't shared a bed. Getting cozy with the little western, aye?"

"We shared a bed _once,"_ Duck snapped, "he had a nightmare...I was helping him."

"And ahm sure ye enjoyed it, eh?"

"...Shut up, Donald."

Donald laughed, causing Duck to crack a smile. His mood was lifting, and he didn't feel as tired as before.

Duck threw the covers off as he threw his legs over the side of the bed.

"What the bloody hell are ye doing?" Donald demanded sharply, shooting to his feet.

"Standing up."

"Yer not well! Lay back doon!"

"Donald, _I'm fine."_

"Ye have a concussion! Yer not well, and Mum checked yer temperature after ye went to sleep. Yer runnin' a fever!"

"I am?"

"Yes, ye are! And a bloody high one, too!"

"So, _that's_ why I'm so cold…" Duck muttered, rubbing his arms, "and dizzy, and lightheaded…."

"Yer dizzy and lightheaded because of that big, bloody concussion," Donald said with a hint of concern in his voice, "yer cold because of the fever. Ye need to stop movin' aroond."

Duck pushed off of the bed and stood, only to have his head throb in disapproval, the room start to spin and his legs to weaken. He felt as light as air, which he knew wasn't normal. Duck felt like he was going to fall again, but Donald's strong arms grabbed him and pushed him back onto the bed. Duck pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to recover from his attempt to stand. He felt like he'd taken a blow.

"See?" Donald exclaimed, "ye can barely stand. Do yer body a favor and _stay the bloody hell off yer feet."_

" _I told you, I'm fine!"_

"Yer not fine. Now, lay back doon."

"Donald, I need to go home!"

"Dook, listen," Donald said sternly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I _know_ yer worried about yon Oliver. Hell, so am I. But, ye _need_ to worry about yerself. Yer health also matters."

Duck looked up at him with wide, puppy dog eyes.

"Don't look at me with those big eyes of yers," Donald said, finding himself smiling.

"I can't look at you with anything else," Duck shot back.

Donald chuckled, because Duck didn't usually get snappy like that.

"Ye need to understand. Ahm doing this so ye don't end up in the hospital, too."

Duck sighed, shutting his eyes.

"Did my parents say anything about Oliver?"

For a brief second, Duck swore he saw Donald's eyes flicker and his body stiffen up.

"No, lad. Nothin'. Yer mum told me that she called the hospital, and Oliver was still in surgery after ye left. And I called her earlier, and she said he was out of operation, and he was asleep in the room assigned. The operation went well...so they say."

Duck sighed and nodded, feeling relieved.

"I wanna go home."

"Ah know," Donald said, setting his camera on the bedside table, "I'll take ye home. But, we'll go slow...the snow is bloody horrible."

"It snowed _more?"_

"A lot more. But, ye really can't complain. Ah mean, it's almost December, and what's December without snow?"

"Yeah," Duck quietly agreed, "you know, this will be my first Christmas with Oliver since I moved."

"And ah bet yer happy aboot that," Donald smiled.

"I am. I'm very happy."

The drive back home was slow and quiet, Duck not saying anything, the twins not wanting to bother him. Duck was freezing and felt pretty awful, so he didn't feel like saying much. Once they pulled up to his house, Duck ever so slowly stepped out.

"Have a nice break, Dook," said Douglas.

Duck nodded.

"You too."

"See ye later," Donald called as he drove the car away from the curb.

Duck waved, walked up to the front door and stepped inside his house, the scent of vanilla greeting him like an old friend.

"Mum? Dad?"

Marianne stormed out of the kitchen and threw her arms around her son, who gratefully hugged back.

"Oh, thank god…" She said between little sobs of relief, "thank god...oh, I was so worried about you…"

"I'm fine, mum," Duck said quietly, in an attempt to calm her, "I'm home."

"Thank god the twins found you," Marianne said, tightening her arms around him, "if they hadn't...oh, cinders and ashes…oh, Montague…"

"Mum, _I'm fine,"_ Duck repeated, wrapping his arms around his mother. "Oliver's safe, Toad's safe, you and Dad are safe...everything's gonna be okay."

"Oh, son, don't you ever scare me like that again," Marianne said sharply, hugging him again, "you're so warm, son…"

"Uh, yeah, I am," Duck said simply.

Marianne pulled way and wiped her eyes.

"Is Dad okay?"

"Yes. He's in the shower."

"Where's Toad?"

"He's upstairs playing with the train sets. He's been awfully quiet."

"I'm not surprised."

Marianne reached out and touched his forehead, but quickly pulled it back.

"Cinders and ashes! You're burning up!"

"Well...I've been kind of sick since Thursday...Donald said I'm running a fever."

"He's right!" Marianne cried, "you're incredibly hot! Go upstairs, get changed and go straight to bed! I'll be in in a minute to give you some medicine."

"Okay, Mum."

"And mind your head!"

"Cinders and ashes, okay!"

Duck slowly walked up the stairs, gripping the railing. He was still pretty dizzy and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

"Son?"

Duck looked up to see his dad, who beamed proudly at him. Miles gave him a quick side hug.

"You're really warm, Montague."

"I'm...kind of running a really high fever. But, Donald and Douglas took care of me."

"That's good. Your mother and I were getting very worried about you when you didn't come home. How's your head?"

"It hurts like bloody hell and it's making me dizzy, but I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yes...we're all okay."

"So...what's going to happen to Oliver's father?" Duck asked quietly.

"The trial is in a few days, but, I'm sure he'll get at least fifteen years in prison."

"Fift...he should be in there for life!"

"He didn't kill anybody, son. If he did, it would be life."

"He _almost_ killed somebody!"

"Yes, but he didn't."

Duck crossed his arms, teeth clenched.

"I wish _**I**_ would've killed him."

"You did shoot him, son. That's something to be proud of."

"Yeah, but I should've killed him! After everything he's done to Oliver? If I killed him, he would've bloody deserved it!"

"I know you're mad, lad," Miles said, "but, he's going to prison, and that's all that matters. You're safe, Oliver's safe….were all okay."

"Oliver is safe," Duck muttered as he turned to his room, "but, he's _hurt._ God, why the bloody hell didn't I just kill that...that _demon_ when I had the chance?! Does Mum know I shot him?"

Miles frowned at him.

"Your concussion is obviously affecting you. You're pretty sick, lad. Go get some rest. And no, your mother doesn't know. I didn't tell her."

Duck turned to his door, but suddenly turned back.

"Dad."

Miles turned around to look at him. Duck stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and shakily pulled out the gun. He held it out.

"Here."

Miles hesitated for a second, but slowly reached out and took the weapon.

"I thought I told you not to use that."

Marianne appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes wide with concern.

"You said to only use it if I had to," Duck said lowly, "he was threatening me and he hurt Oliver. He left me no choice."

"You _shot him?!"_

"In the shoulder. I didn't kill him."

" _You shot a man?!"_

"My god, Marianne, the bastard will survive," Miles huffed.

"Miles, that doesn't bloody matter!" Marianne yelled, her hands fisting the front of her jacket, "our son shot somebody! Why the bloody hell didn't you stop him?!"

"Why would he?" Duck snapped, "the guy deserved it! He pointed a gun at Oliver, then he pointed it at Dad, and then he had the audacity to turn around and point it at me! He shot Oliver...so I shot him back!"

Duck hissed when his head pounded again.

 _ **Yer health also matters,**_ came Douglas' voice. _**Do yer body a favor and stay the bloody hell off yer feet.**_

Duck trailed his fingers along the bandage on his head.

 _Okay, Douglas. You win._

"I'm going to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning."

"Wait," Marianne suddenly said, her face pale, "give me your jacket...I need to wash it."

Duck looked down at all the blood, and ever so slowly took his jacket off and handed it to his mother.

"It'll come out, right?"

"I'm not sure...I'll see what I can do."

Duck walked into his room and shut the door, leaning his head against the wood. He felt dizzier, and he sighed deeply when his head throbbed. The fever he had was obviously making him weaker, weaker than before. He walked over to his bed and lay down on his stomach. Resting his cheek on the comforter, he closed his eyes.

But…

His door creaked open, and his dog stood there, looking at him. Duck opened his eyes, smiled weakly, and pat the bed. Train jumped onto the bed, and curled herself into a ball. Pulling her into his arms and hugging her close, Duck closed his eyes again.

Until his door opened once more.

"Dear, I have some medicine for your fever."

Marianne stepped into the room with a glass of water and some pills. Marianne took a seat on the bed, and watched the teen gulp them down. Duck set the glass on the bedside table, then lay back down, pulling Train into his arms again. Marianne rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"I'll never forget what I saw that night," Duck suddenly said, "I'm gonna hate the color red until the day I die. I hate blood...it's red...and I've never seen so much red in my life. Mum...why did Oliver have to suffer like this? He could've told me. Why didn't he?"

His voice was so low and monotone he almost seemed dead. Marianne found herself shuddering a little. She hated seeing her son like this.

"I wish I knew, Montague. If I did, trust me, I'd tell you. We'll help you through this, dear. You'll be fine, Oliver will be fine, everything will be fine...I promise."

Duck looked up at her, gold eyes dim.

"I'm awful tired, Mum…"

"I know, dear, I know. Get some sleep, okay?"

Marianne quickly left the room, turning off the light as she went. Duck buried his cheek into the comforter of his bed, and quickly drifted off.

 _I should've killed him._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

When Duck woke up the next morning, he raced into the bathroom and lost what little he'd eaten over the past few days. He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He felt the cool tiles against his back and they quickly heated up from his body heat.

"Montague?"

Marianne opened the door and stepped inside. She looked worriedly at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh uh…"

Duck felt his stomach turn and he turned and threw up again in the trash can. Marianne rubbed his back soothingly.

"It's okay…"

Duck finally stopped and he rested his face in his arms.

"Ugh…"

"Are you _sure_ you're okay enough to go see Oliver, today?" Marianne asked in concern.

"Yes, I'm fine! I wanna see him! I _need to_ see him!"

"...If you insist, son. We'll be waiting downstairs."

Duck quickly regained his breath, and stood up to regain his composure. Quickly putting on some fresh clothes, he laced up his shoes and threw on his successfully cleaned jacket. He slowly made his way down the stairs, gripping the railing. Toad immediately jumped into his arms, and Duck almost fell back against the steps.

"Toad," Miles said gently, pulling the eight year old away, "go easy on him. He's not feeling very well."

Toad cocked his head.

"Is that why Mister Duck was so warm?"

"Yes, lad. Duck is a bit...unwell."

"Montague, are you sure you want to see Oliver?" Marianne asked again, as she zipped up her jacket.

"For the millionth time, _yes."_

"I'll drive, Marianne," Miles said as he opened up the front door.

They all quickly got in the green mustang, and Miles blasted the heat.

"Be careful," Marianne said, pulling her long, blonde hair into a ponytail, "this car is god awful in the snow."

"Why did we get this car again?"

"Because, we needed one," Marianne said, as if it were obvious.

"I know that, but, why get a car thats horrible in the snow?"

"I suppose we just didn't think too much about it."

Miles looked up in the rearview mirror.

"It's about time we get you your own car, lad. You have anything in mind?"

Duck looked up in thought.

"Well...something with a four wheel drive would be nice. And good gas mileage...and it has to be green."

Miles chuckled.

"You do like green, don't you?"

"I _love_ green. And you should, too."

Duck's stomach lurched again and he quickly covered it up with both arms.

Marianne saw what was going on, eyed him with concern and let the matter rest. Toad leaned into Duck's arm.

"You'll be okay, Mister Duck...won't you?"

Duck smiled slightly and pulled him closer.

"Of course I will. I'm just a little sick. It'll pass when it's ready."

"Toad, stay on your side of the car," Marianne said as the car stopped in front of some railroad tracks and the gates went down, "we don't want you to catch what he has."

Toad obediently scooted back over to his seat. Duck watched the train come into view, and his eyes widened a little bit when he saw the engine. A familiar, little blue E2 passed by, whistle ringing loud and proud. The engine was pulling a train of ballast. The number one on the boiler was bold, even on the snowy, freezing day. Duck could see Thomas from the open cab and wanted to wave, but knew Thomas wouldn't be able to see him, so he didn't. The train quickly passed, the gates opened up, and the car pressed on. Toad leaned over the front seat.

"Are we there yet?"

"About ten minutes, dear," Marianne replied.

"Cinders and ashes, this snow is horrible," Miles said, turning up the windshield wipers to a higher level, "I can hardly see a thing."

"Just keep going, Miles."

Duck felt bile rise up again, and he covered his mouth.

 _I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. Don't think, don't think, don't think._

He swallowed what was coming up and tried to soothe his pounding headache. After what seemed like centuries, they pulled up to the Sodor Medical Center, and parked. They quickly walked into the lobby, and were met by immediate warmth. While Miles was talking to the person at the front desk, Marianne grabbed her son's arm.

"Son, I'm going to tell you this now. I probably should have told you this earlier, but, it slipped my mind."

"What is it?"

"Oliver is scheduled to talk to the police today over what happened. Since you'll be there, too, I can guarantee they'll want to talk to you as well. You need to be one hundred percent honest, capiche?"

"Okay, Mum."

Miles said a quick thank you to the employee and walked up to them.

"He's on the sixth floor, room seven. Let's go."

The ride up the elevator was mostly silent, except for the annoying elevator music. Once they reached the sixth floor, Duck turned back to his family.

"Can I...Can I just get a few minutes alone with him? Then, you guys can come in."

"Of course, son," Miles said, laying both of his hands on Toad's shoulders, "we'll wait out here."

Duck watched them walk off and leaned against the door frame. Oliver was lying in the bed, all scratched up and heavily bruised, eyes closed. There was an IV in his harm, and a blood pressure tube hooked up to his other arm. There was a large white bandage thing, or something Duck couldn't determine, wrapped around his stomach. He was covered up and looked perfectly content, even though they both knew he was far from it. Duck took a deep breath and knocked on the open door.

"Oliver?"

Oliver opened his eyes. The green orbs looked so clouded and so hurt and so defeated that Duck almost didn't recognize them.

But...Oliver smiled.

"Duck…"

Duck found his feet take over and in seconds Oliver was in his arms. Oliver hissed a little from the pain, but hugged back as tightly as he could. Once they separated, Duck pulled up a chair. He stretched out his hand, and Oliver gratefully took it. Their fingers intertwined, and Duck forgot all about being sick.

Until Oliver brought it up.

"Why's your hand so hot?"

Duck quickly thought of an excuse.

"It was really hot in the car; Dad really blasted the heat."

Oliver accepted the excuse, nodding.

Duck squeezed his hand.

"So...how'd the operation go?"

"It went fine…" Oliver said quietly, "the doctor said I flatlined twice on the table, but, I'm okay. I'm lucky because the bullet barely missed my stomach intestines...it didn't hit anything important. It was about an inch from my liver...and if it had been hit it would've killed me."

Duck shook his head, thanking every god out there that the bullet had missed. Thanking his lucky stars that Oliver, through six years of abuse, being shot and flatlining twice on an operation table...had survived.

"You're immortal," Duck whispered.

"Thank god I'm not," Oliver chuckled sadly, squeezing Duck's hand again.

Duck leaned over the bed and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I don't know how the bloody hell you did it, but...you've survived everything that's been thrown at you for six years."

"I'm just doing what I was put here to do," Oliver replied, looking up at him, "to watch over my little brother. I thought, 'If nobody would do it then...who will?'"

Duck shook his head again, planting another kiss on his head.

"But, Ollie, you were hurt nonstop for six years by your father, you went to school _and_ took care of Toad. You take care of him, but...who is there to take care of _you_?"

Oliver sighed and looked down.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not the little kid I was back home. I had to grow up. And I grew up because I knew that's what Toad needed. He needed someone to look after him, and unfortunately for us, our parents weren't capable of doing that. So, I became his parent instead of the older brother I always dreamed of being."

Duck sighed shakily, pulling Oliver into an embrace.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked in concern, "you're like a furnace."

"Don't worry about me."

"Duck, if you've made yourself sick over this, I'm gonna worry."

"I'm surprised you haven't made _yourself_ sick," Duck muttered.

But, Duck wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, ignoring Oliver's demands to why he felt so hot.

Until…

"Hold on a sec, Ollie."

Duck stood and casually walked over to the trash can by the door. Picking it up quickly, he threw up again, stomach burning with pain.

"Duck?!" Oliver screeched, trying to reach for him, "are you okay?!"

Duck set the trash can down when he was done, brushed himself off, then went and sat down by Oliver again. Oliver handed him a bottle.

"Here-drink some water."

Duck took a few gulps from the bottle then set it down, moving his arm back around Oliver.

"Uh...sorry about that. I'm not feeling too well."

"God, Duck, you should be at home. You're in no condition to be here."

Duck shook his head in disbelief and brought Oliver's chin up so they were staring at each other.

"Since you were ten, you've put up with abuse. Since you were ten, you were forced to grow up. Since you were ten, you took the blow for your brother, letting that bastard hurt you instead of him."

Oliver gulped.

"Yeah. And? Why're you crying?"

Duck didn't realize he was until he felt the hot, droplets of water cascade down his face. He hurriedly wiped at them.

"I-I'm crying because I wasn't there to protect you, and because I-I'm so sorry that you had to go through that for years. For taking it on yourself and keeping Toad safe...my god, Ollie, I-I'm just...I'm just _so proud of you."_

Oliver smiled up at him, tears glistening in his own eyes.

"T-Thanks...I-I'm proud of me, too. And you understand why I-I never told you or anybody...right?"

"Yeah...but I'm not proud of you for that."

The both of them laughed as Duck pulled Oliver closer to his side.

"I love you, Ollie...so much. Don't listen to all those horrible things that bastard said to you. You are not, and never were, any of the things he ever called you."

Oliver sighed in a bliss, leaning his head on the other's shoulder.

"Thanks, I know...and I love you, too."

They were silent for awhile.

"Were you scared?" Oliver suddenly asked, "when you came to get me?"

" _Scared?_ Oliver, I was _terrified!_ I saw all that blood and I just thought you left me…there was a armed guy in the house and he hurt you. When I saw all that blood, I was terrified that he'd killed you...and I was terrified of what I would do if he had."

Duck stared down at him, golden eyes warm with comfort.

"I can only imagine how _you_ felt."

Oliver smiled sadly as Duck pulled him closer.

"At that point," he said in a thick voice, "I just wish he would've killed me."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm sorry, but I just got so sick of it...but, I'm so happy I'm alive, and that you are too. I just still can't believe you shot him."

Duck smiled fondly.

"Anybody who messes with _MY Ollie_ is going to get taken down. Anybody who messes with you will _always_ mess with me."

Oliver turned a bright pink and only nodded two separated, and Duck smiled at him.

"Toad and my parents are here. Do you want to see them?"

"Of course...does Toad know what happened?"

"No, all he knows is that I was missing for a few days, and you've been getting taken care of."

"Wait," Oliver said, sitting up in alarm, "you went missing for a few days? Why? What happened?"

Duck looked down at his lap.

"It's kind of a long story…"

"I've got time."

"Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Of course I do. But, what's a few more minutes? Tell me what happened."

Duck sighed deeply.

"Well...after you were taken into operation, I called Dad to make sure he was okay, which he was. I was in a lot of shock after what happened at your house, and I really wasn't acting like myself. Dad wanted to come and pick me up, but I insisted on me taking the ten o' clock train to Arlesburgh."

"Okay. Then what?"

"Well...I boarded the train, and I was feeling really dizzy, and I almost couldn't see correctly. I then realized that I still had the gun in my pocket, and I saw your blood all over my hands from earlier. So, I was walking down the sidewalk from the station to get back home, and I just...collapsed."

" _You passed out?"_

"Yeah. Luckily, Donald and Douglas found me on their way back to their car, and they carried me the car and took me to their place. Their Mum is a nurse, and the first time I woke up, they told me that I had a pretty bad concussion from hitting my head on the sidewalk. The second time I woke up, I was running a really high fever, and I honestly still am. The twins were really worried; they didn't want me to end up in the hospital either."

"You have a concussion and a fever...there's a blizzard happening outside...and you're here."

"Of course I am. It'll pass, don't worry."

"Well, how's your head? You must've hit it pretty hard."

"I did, but I'm fine. The twins took good care of me."

Oliver smiled.

"I'll have to thank them later. Oh, and why weren't you at school the other day?"

Duck stared down at him.

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Duck chuckled sheepishly.

"Well...Diesel, this kid I really hate was saying some mean things about you. And he's been mean to me since we moved out here, so...I kind of got in a fight with him...and I may or may not have gotten a suspension."

" _You_ got suspended?"

"Yeah, my parents were surprised, too."

Oliver laughed, leaning back against the pillows.

"That's hilarious. You're not the goody-goody that you used to be."

"Oh, shut up," Duck smirked, walking toward the door, "like you haven't changed either."

Duck turned back to him.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I've had a few days to recover now, so, yes, I'm feeling better."

"Ollie…"

"What?"

"Don't lie to me."

Oliver froze up for a brief second, before looking down.

"How the bloody hell did you know?"

"I always know what you're thinking. Now, how are you truly feeling?"

Oliver looked back up, tears building up again.

"How the bloody hell do you think I feel? My own father shot me! And he's hurt me since I was ten! All because Mum-"

But, Oliver stopped himself, tears spilling over and landing Duck in a mist of confusion.

"What's your Mum have to do with this?"

Oliver sighed shakily, wiping at his tears.

"N-Not here...I'll tell you once were home, o-okay?"

"Okay, Ollie. I understand. I'm gonna go get Toad and my parents now."

Oliver nodded and Duck walked into the hall to get them.

"You guys can come in now, but, be gentle. He's not doing so well."

The four of them walked into the room and before anybody could say a word, Toad jumped on his older brother.

"Mister Oliver!" Toad cried gleefully, "Mister Oliver! I missed you! I missed you so much!"

Oliver smiled slightly, hugging him close to his chest.

"I missed you, too, Toad. Have you been good?"

He looked up at Marianne.

"Has he been good?"

Marianne smiled.

"He's been very good, yes. How are you, dear?"

Oliver's smile dropped.

"Bad," he said quietly. "But...I'll be okay."

Marianne nodded understandingly and hugged him.

"I'm so sorry, hon. If there's anything we can do for you…"

Oliver looked up at her.

"Actually, there's one thing…"

"Tell us lad, we'll do it for you," Miles cut in.

"Is there any way….you could drop by my house and get all my art supplies and my sketchbooks? I'm so bored here."

Miles and Marianne both nodded.

"Of course," Miles said, "in fact, we can go get it right now. Where are they?"

"Everything is under my bed...but I'm not sure if the room has been cleaned yet, so...be careful."

Miles nodded, and began to walk out.

"I'll come with you," Marianne said, standing, "be good, boys. We'll be back soon."

The two of them exited, leaving Duck, Oliver and Toad all alone. Toad hugged Oliver, burying his face in his older brother's neck.

"You've been gone awhile, Mister Oliver. You were gone one night, then Mister Duck fell and he was gone and I got lonely….why're you here, Mister Oliver?"

Oliver sighed shakily, his heart pounding with fear and images of that horrible night flashed through his memory.

But, Toad was his little brother.

He always deserved to know.

Oliver pulled up his sleeve, revealing several bruises along his arm.

Duck's eyes went wider than dinner plates.

"Toad, do you know what these are?" Oliver asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Toad cocked his head.

"They look just like the ones you have all over your back."

" _WHAT?"_ Duck demanded shrilly.

But Oliver ignored him as he continued to explain to his little brother.

"These are called bruises. When somebody gets hurt, a bruise is usually left behind. For many years, Toad, our father...he hit me. And he shouldn't have been doing that. When he hit me...he left one of these behind."

Toad cocked his head. He had known for a long time that Oliver was getting hurt, but he never figured out why.

"But...why did he hit you, Mister Oliver? Were you bad?"

"Absolutely not," Duck cut in, eyes flashing, "Toad, your father was very unhealthy. He didn't think normally, didn't act normally...he had a very sick mind."

"But...why does he have a sick mind?"

"Some people are just born that way, taught that way or just learn that way," Duck explained gently, trying to help Oliver out, "your father thought by hurting someone smaller than him, your brother to be exact, he was more powerful. Your father was a lot stronger, and since Ollie was a lot smaller and weaker than him...your father could very easily hurt him, because he knew Oliver couldn't fight back. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so, Mister Duck," Toad said quietly, as tears started to fill his grey eyes, "h-how come he only hurt you, Mister Oliver?"

"Because I refused to let him hurt you," Oliver said lowly, pulling Toad closer, "I wasn't going to stand back and let him treat you the way he treats me. You didn't deserve it."

" _Neither did you!"_ Toad squeaked, beginning to cry, "M-Mister Oliver, why did you let him do this to you? W-Why didn't you tell Mister Duck?"

"Because Duck could've gotten hurt, too," Oliver explained quietly, "if I told _anybody_ what was going on, you or Duck could've been hurt or killed, and I refused to let that happen."

" _But he almost killed you!"_ Duck suddenly exclaimed, feeling more waterworks coming on.

"But, he didn't," Oliver said with a tiny smile, "you said it yourself, earlier. I'm immortal."

Duck hurriedly shook his head.

"M-Mister Oliver...h-he tried to kill you?" Toad whispered, more tears raining down, "w-what does that mean?"

The other boys looked at each other, contemplating what to say.

"Well…" Oliver said quietly, searching for the right words, "Dad...had this...weapon, and that weapon...could really hurt...or kill...people with it. Dad tried to take my life, meaning if that weapon had succeeded in hitting something important...I would've gone to sleep and never woken up."

"But, sleep is good, Mister Oliver!" Toad said, eyes wide, "you do that when you're tired! It's normal! And I know because I do it, too! And so does Mister Duck!"

"But this sleep is eternal, Toad," Duck said quietly, "Oliver wouldn't wake up. Ever. You'd never see him again. Nobody would."

Toad looked at his older brother, tears still swimming in his eyes.

"Are you awake, Mister Oliver?"

Oliver stared back at him for a minute.

"Of course I am."

"So, when you go back to sleep...you'll wake up again...right? I don't want Mister Oliver to go away again."

Oliver smiled, squeezing his little brother.

"I promise, Toad…I'll always wake up."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

About an hour passed. Miles and Marianne had returned from Oliver's house with his art supplies, and Oliver smiled gratefully when Marianne handed him his sketchbook. They were all looking over his shoulder as he flipped through the drawings.

"My god…" Miles said in disbelief, "these are brilliant...where in the bloody hell did you learn to do this?"

"I just taught myself, I suppose. I started when I was very young."

Duck smiled when Oliver stopped at a drawing of Donald and Douglas, both smiling as they looked through a camera screen together. There was a knock at the door, and everyone looked up. Standing there were two female CSI agents. They both had long blonde hair and icy blue eyes. They were both wearing identical suits..and looked identical all together.

"Oliver Collett?"

"Y-Yes?"

One of the agents smiled.

"I'm Pip, and this is my partner and twin sister, Emma. We're from the SDA, and we're here to ask you some questions."

"O-Okay."

Marianne stood and took Toad's hand.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's let them talk in private. Come, Miles."

The three of them left, and Emma shut the door behind them. The girls took a seat, and Oliver shut his sketchbook to give them his full attention. Duck was about to walk out when Emma stopped him.

"Stay. We'd like to talk to you, too."

Duck nodded and sat back down next to Oliver.

"So," Pip said with a smile, looking at Oliver, "I hear from your principal that you're the best artist in the school."

Oliver smiled bashfully.

"Well...I thought I was good, but I didn't know that that's what he thought. Why?"

"Oh, no reason, just trying to cheer you up," Pip replied.

Emma got a clipboard out and clicked open a pen.

"Okay," Pip said, "we're going to take notes on everything you say or do. We're going to ask you a few questions, and that'll be it, okay?"

"Okay…"

"First off, how old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"And how old were you when your father started hitting you?"

"I-I was ten. He's been doing this for six years."

"I'm sorry…" Pip said sympathetically.

"I am, too…" Oliver said quietly, "I just got used to it after awhile."

Emma scribbled furiously on her paper.

"Can you please tell us everything that happened, from start to finish?" Pip piped up again.

So, Oliver did, telling the story from when he was ten to waking up in the hospital. Both Pip and Emma looked horrified after the story, and Oliver's face was streaked with tears. Duck sighed deeply, holding back his own tears. After writing everything down, the girls turned back to Oliver.

"Do you have any idea to why your father did this to you?" Pip asked.

Oliver hesitated for a long time, until he finally shook his head sadly. Duck narrowed his eyes.

"No...and I really wish I did."

Duck bit his lip. He could tell Oliver was lying through his teeth. Pip cleared her throat.

"And...I've also heard you have a little brother. How old is he?"

"He's eight."

"Do you know why your father never treated him the same way?"

"Because I made a deal with him."

Pip leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

"What kind of deal?"

Oliver blinked back his tears.

"Soon after all this started...I came home from school, and I saw him slap my little brother. Our deal was he could do whatever he wanted to me, as long as he left Toad alone."

Emma blinked hurriedly, and Duck could tell she was trying to hold back tears. And he couldn't blame her; he was holding them back, too. Pip smiled, and walked over to put a hand comfortingly on Oliver's arm.

"You know, you're a very brave boy. Putting yourself in front of your little brother to make sure he didn't get hurt like you did...that takes guts...lots of them. Toad is _incredibly_ lucky to have an older brother like you."

Oliver smiled at her through his tears.

"Thank you...Pip."

Pip smiled and sat back down next to Emma. She looked at Duck.

"Okay, enough questions for Oliver...for now. You're next."

"Okay, then."

Pip smiled again, leaning forward in her chair.

"First off, what's your name?"

"I'm Montague, but my friends call me Duck."

Pip chuckled.

"Why's that?"

Duck smiled fondly down at Oliver.

"I had a really bad accident when I was little, and I was limping for weeks. Oliver told me I walked like a duck, and the name stuck. Nobody's called me by my real name since then...except my parents. I'm both to them."

"That's cute...I've never had a nickname."

"Well...it's a sign of affection."

Pip smiled, leaning back slightly.

"What's your relationship with Oliver?"

"He was my best friend growing up. We got together a few weeks ago, though."

"That's sweet. Are you older than him?"

"Yeah. I'm seventeen."

"And...how old were you two when you met?"

"I was four, Oliver was three."

"I see. What's your course at school?"

"I'm head of the Sound and the Lights for Video Arts," Duck replied, wondering what this was leading up to.

"Interesting. Now…"

Pip looked at him, eyes bold.

"When did you find out Oliver was getting abused?"

Duck looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"A few weeks back, my family and I were heading for a trip back to the Great Western, and Oliver and Toad were spending the weekend with us. We were up in my room and...Oliver had had this huge bruise on his face for weeks, and it was driving me nuts, because he'd been getting a lot of bruises and he wouldn't tell me why. He was in a lot of pain...and Oliver told me someone was hurting him, but, he said he had it handled, so I left the matter alone...but only because he asked me to."

"I see," Pip replied, as Emma wrote more things down, "when you say Great Western, do you mean the Great Western Railway?"

"Yeah, Ollie and I grew up there. But, a few years ago, my family and I moved out here, and I started attending the Sodor Arts Academy. A few years later, Oliver found his way out here, and we were together again."

"How did you to find each other again?"

"My mum picked me up from school one day, and we went to go check out this new bookstore that had just opened up. While we were there, I found a book on the Great Western, so I went up to buy it, and Oliver was the one working behind the counter; he'd landed a shift there. And, he had a huge bruise...and a black eye, if I recall."

Emma scribbled furiously.

"Did you find out anything more once you two were reunited? Like, did he give anything away?" Pip asked.

"Not at first," Duck said quietly, "he was at my house one night. He and Toad were staying over, and Oliver stayed in my room. He had this...retainer that he wore, because his teeth got knocked out, he said. And when we went to bed, he had this horrible nightmare. He was crying and screaming and _begging_ someone to leave him alone. It took me forever to wake him up."

Emma wrote that down, too.

"Okay, this next question is very important," Pip said seriously, "is it true that you shot Dustin Collett?"

Duck nodded, without the slightest hesitation.

"Yes."

"As a minor, how did you get your hands on a gun? We want the full story."

Oliver suddenly leaned over and took his hand, and they both intertwined their fingers.

"I got a three day suspension from school," Duck began, "I got in a fight with this boy named Diesel, because he was saying some mean, dirty things about Oliver. I punched him, and I got sent home for three days. After school, Oliver went to work, and I got a text from him asking if I could babysit Toad for awhile, because he was working late. I said yes, so Toad came over on his scooter and I looked after him for awhile. My Mum came home and we both made dinner, and then my Dad got home a few minutes later. Around ten o'clock, Oliver still hadn't come to get Toad, and I was getting really worried. Toad was asleep on the couch and I accidentally woke him up because I was yelling. I then really figured out why Oliver sent Toad to my house, and I really flipped out. I tried calling him over and over, but he wouldn't pick up, so...my dad gave me a gun, my mum one, got one for himself, and he and I took the car to Oliver's house. My Mum stayed back with Toad to keep him safe. And before I left, she specifically told me to only use the gun if I needed it."

"Then what happened?"

"We got to Oliver's house, and there was a ladder by the garage. So, I used that to climb into Oliver's room through the window. He was in there….in a pool of his own blood, and he was crying and telling me to leave, but I wouldn't. And then that psychopath came in and ruined the moment. Once I saw him, I pointed the gun at him, and he pointed one at me, too. He and I were back talking each other for a few minutes until my Dad came in with two policemen. They had guns too. And then...Oliver's father said something really horrible, and that's what made me shoot him. I carried Oliver down to the ambulance and I rode in the back with him, where this really nice paramedic named Gator took care of him."

"And then?"

"We arrived at the hospital, and the nurses wouldn't let me go back with him, so I went to his assigned room. The whole situation had put me in a shock, because I felt sick and I wasn't acting normally. I called my Dad to make sure he was okay, then I took the ten o'clock train to Arlesburgh. On the train, I realized I still had the gun in my pocket, and I was feeling worse and worse. So, once I got off the train I was walking on the sidewalk that leads away from the station, and I passed out."

"Oh, goodness," was all Pip said.

"Yeah," Duck sighed, "so, my friends Donald and Douglas found me lying there on their way to their car. They were the ones pulling the train that night. They took me to their house, where they proceeded to tell me that I had a major concussion and a very high fever...which I still do. They took care of me for a few days before taking me home, where I went straight to bed...and here we are now."

Again, Emma jotted all of this down.

"So, your father gave you the gun," Pip said simply, "did he believe you had the capability to kill Oliver's father?"

"I'm sure he was well aware of it, yes. I knew that Dad knew that I had the capability to kill the guy, but, he knew that I wouldn't. I wish I did, though."

"Were you trying to kill him when you shot him?"

"No, I was just so angry at him for trying to kill his own son that I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. When I walked into that house, I had no intention of killing anyone."

"But, did you have intention in hurting anyone?"

"Only if I had to."

Pip nodded to him and then to Emma.

"My dad won't get in trouble for giving me the gun, will he?" Duck asked urgently.

Emma smiled, shaking her head as she answered that one for herself.

"No, it's highly unlikely. You said there were policemen present when you fired, right? If the cops didn't stop you, you're not in trouble. The worst that could happen is if your father gets fined a little, and that's also highly unlikely...honestly, your father might get an honorable mention for thinking ahead and giving you something for self defense."

Duck smiled slightly.

"Well...I really hope he won't get in trouble."

"Well, boys, thank you for answering our questions. There's somebody else here to see you, too."

The girls walked to the door, and standing there was…

" _ **Sir Topham Hatt?!"**_

The principal walked through the door, smiling.

"Hello, boys. Surprised to see me?"

"Of course, sir. What're you doing here?" Duck asked, standing up to offer the man a chair, which he politely accepted.

"What, I can't visit two of my star pupils?" Sir Topham grinned, "especially when they're in a bit of a mess?"

"Well, we're just surprised to see you," Oliver said, sitting up, "I'm sure you're very busy."

"Well, I am the principal of the best school of the arts in London," Sir Topham said proudly, "so, yes, I am very busy. But, I can always find time for my students. I'm so sorry, Oliver, for everything you went though."

Oliver looked up, smiling lightly.

"Thank you...I am, too. But, I'll be okay. I'll get back to school, he'll go to jail, I'll start drawing again...everything will be fine."

Sir Topham sighed deeply.

"Still...for six years of constant abuse, and you kept it all to yourself? What on earth were you thinking?"

Oliver sighed.

"I had to protect my little brother, and my friends. If I let a single thing slip, somebody was going to get hurt or killed."

"But, this is something very serious. Your father hurt you, Oliver. For years. He wouldn't have hurt anybody if you had told me or the school counselor. My god, I saw those bruises you had and I knew something was wrong, but I didn't take any action. And I'm very ashamed of that. If you had simply told the school, you wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. We _can_ have your father thrown in prison and we _can_ keep you safe. _You don't have to worry about getting hurt anymore."_

"I didn't tell the school for the sake of Duck and Toad," Oliver said fiercely, "he's going to prison now, and that's all that matters."

"I'm just saying, Oliver, that your father hurt you, which will forever be unacceptable. And, no matter how dire the situation is, you need to know that you can tell us anything and that we will take care of it. All your friends are very worried about you. And speaking of friends..."

Sir Topham opened his briefcase and pulled out a large poster.

"Thomas got some of his friends together and they made you this."

Oliver unfolded it, and his eyes filled up with warm tears. The poster was green, with a bright and bold yellow _GWR_ in the middle. The number eleven was in each corner, and there were signatures and a little notes all over it, some from people he didn't even know.

 _Be strong, Oliver. We're always here for you if you need us. I promise that nothing will ever happen to you ever again. Get well soon, Ollie._

 _Thomas_

 _Get well soon, Ollie! We miss you a lot! And I'm so sorry for everything you went through! I'm always here, and I'll come visit you over break! I promise!_

 _Percy_

 _Hurry up and get better, yon Oliver. We miss you. Our door is always open to you if you need a place to stay. We'll always be here to protect you._

 _Donald and Douglas_

 _I'm so sorry, Ollie. I'm always here for you if you need someone to talk to, and I hope you feel better. We all love you. And have a good Christmas!_

 _Emily_

 _Heal up and come back to school, Oliver! The art class needs you, and the lunch table is a lot emptier without you! Get well soon!_

 _Edward_

 _I don't know you too well, but any friend of Duck's is a friend of mine! Get well soon, and you're welcome in the studio anytime!_

 _BoCo_

 _Come back to school, we need you here! It's boring here without you! I want to see more of your drawings, too! And get well soon! I'm sorry for what he did to you!_

 _James_

And many, many more. Oliver smiled as more tears fell down. Sir Topham patted his arm in comfort, and Duck put an arm around him.

"You've got a good group of friends," the principal said, reading the notes himself, "Thomas has been working on a song for you...and Percy's writing a poem about you for his final grade. Emily's working on something special, too...and I believe she will be by later to give it to you. She's worked very hard, and she has something for you, too, Duck."

Duck and Oliver looked at each other in confusion, wondering what it might be. Sir Topham picked up his briefcase.

"Duck...I've been thinking."

"Sir?"

"I've been thinking about your suspension. Despite the fact that winter break has already started, I would like to...suspend your suspension."

Duck looked confused.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I would like to make it like this suspension never happened. I talked to some witnesses of the fight when it happened, and they told me the mean, dirty things that Diesel had said. So, for sticking up for a friend, I'm wiping your school record of your suspension. You'll have a clean slate once again, like it was never changed to begin with."

Duck smiled gratefully; his parents would be thrilled to hear that.

"Thank you, sir. Very much."

Sir Topham smiled back and stood.

"Well, boys, I best be off before the snow gets worse. My wife told me to be home in time for supper. Get well, Oliver, and we will see you at the Academy in two weeks."

"Bye, sir. Have a good break."

Sir Topham nodded and walked out.

"When do you think Emily's getting here?" Duck asked.

"I don't know," Oliver replied, shutting his eyes, "but, I'm exhausted. Wake me up if and when she gets here."

Duck nodded, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Sleep well, Ollie."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Duck stayed with Oliver the whole time he slept, keeping a close eye and pacing the room. Oliver was so still and so silent and so pale in the bed that it almost made Duck uncomfortable. Duck subconsciously picked up Oliver's sketchbook and admired each of the drawings, one by one. He loved Oliver's artwork and style. Each of the drawings was dated, and said the name(s) of whoever was in the drawing, as well as a name for the drawing itself. Duck smiled as he saw the drawing of Donald and Douglas again, which was probably one of his favorites. Duck continued to flip through it.

Thomas, Percy Edward, James, Emily, and himself all gathered at a lunch table in the cafeteria.

BoCo screaming at Gordon and James.

Edward cleaning his glasses as he read a book.

Percy writing in the library.

Henry planting some little flowers.

Gordon rehearsing lines in the Theatre Hallway.

Emily dancing in the auditorium.

Thomas performing on the field.

The art, the music and the writing hallways.

The stage.

Two Great Western engines.

Duck's eyes went huge when he got to the drawing of him and Oliver in front of The City of Truro. The detail was so realistic that Duck felt like the two of them were still there, in front of that engine.

He actually _lived_ that drawing.

He wished they were still there, on the Great Western.

Maybe none of this would've happened if he hadn't moved.

Duck pushed back that guilty feeling and kept looking at the drawings.

Toad playing with some train sets.

A sunset over a railway.

The Sodor Harbor.

The Little Western Branchline.

Page after page of masterpieces.

Duck couldn't decide which one was his favorite. He kept flipping for what felt like forever, until another picture caught his eye, and this one actually caused his smile to disappear rather than get bigger. It was a picture of Oliver and Emily in the bookstore, and they were both leaning over the counter, hugging. They both had their eyes closed and were smiling in a bliss. And below it, in neat, loop handwriting, it said

"You know, .if you're getting hurt...you don't have to stay with somebody who treats you that way. Because nobody deserves that. Especially you, Ollie."

Duck stared at the drawing and those words in shock. How did Emily find out about Oliver's abuse before he did? Why did Oliver tell her first? Why was Emily at the bookstore in the first place? Why were they hugging? Did Emily have a crush on Oliver? Duck shook his head; maybe he was jumping to conclusions. He knew Emily, and Emily wasn't one to keep secrets. They were close friends, and Duck knew Emily would never develop any sort of feelings or even attempt on wooing Oliver if she knew he was taken.

Duck trusted Emily to the fact where he was positive she would never do that to him.

So, no, Duck wasn't going to jump to conclusions, because he knew his conclusions would be wrong. But still….those words.

Duck couldn't imagine how much those words probably meant to Oliver, especially after all he'd been through. There was a knock at the door and Duck turned, sketchbook still in his hand. Emily stood in the doorway, holding two large green gift bags in her hands. She was wearing a long, emerald green jacket with some black leggings and some fluffy boots. Her long, brown hair hung around her face, snow clinging to it.

"Hey, Duck," Emily smiled, setting her stuff down and walking over to hug him.

"Hi, Em."

"How is he?" She asked.

"He's sleeping, now."

"Oh," she said softly, "maybe I should come back later…"

"No, stay," Duck protested, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the room, "I'm sure you went through hell to get here in all this snow. I'm kind of lonely, too…and bored."

Emily smiled, took off her coat and hung it on a chair.

"So...how is he right now?"

"He's fine, the operation went well. He'll recover after a few weeks, but it'll take a long time to help him get over this."

Emily sighed sadly as she went to stand by the sleeping Oliver.

"Aww...you poor thing."

"Yeah," Duck sighed, "I feel pretty terrible."

Emily turned to look at him, knowing that tone all too well.

"You're not blaming yourself for this, are you? Because it's not your fault."

"Emily...yes, it is. I-I could've helped him."

"If he didn't tell you, then how were you supposed to know?" She asked gently.

"How was I...if he didn't...Em, you saw those bruises! I knew he was getting hurt, yet he told me he wasn't and I was stupid enough to believe him!"

"But, so was I!" Emily cried, "Duck, you're not the only one who's upset about this. I feel some responsibility for this, too. But...Ollie's okay. He is now. He has us, and his dad is going to jail. You've got nothing to worry about anymore."

She smiled sadly down at the sleeping Oliver, who hadn't moved.

"Keep this in mind. You weren't the one who hurt him for years. You weren't the one that insulted him. You're not the one who gave him bruises. You're not the one that got him sent to the hospital. Y-You're not the one who tried to kill him."

Emily could feel her waterworks coming on. The story of Oliver's life had broken her heart.

"Duck...you're not any of those things," she whispered, "you're the exact _opposite. You_ found out what was happening. _You_ took charge. _You_ put yourself between him and another gun to protect him. _You_ shot the person who abused him. _You_ made sure he got to this hospital. _You_ stayed with him throughout all this. _You-You_ were, and always have been his best friend...because _you_ were the one that saved him."

Duck smiled a real smile for the first time in days.

"Yeah...I guess I did save him, didn't I?"

" _You did,"_ Emily smiled through her tears, "because you are his best friend, _and that is what you were meant to do."_

Duck smiled again.

"Thanks, Em…"

"Y-You're welcome."

Emily wiped her eyes, glad that she wasn't wearing any makeup. Duck, sensing her discomfort, just smiled and gathered her in his hold. Emily hugged back tightly.

"Thank god for you…" she whispered into his shoulder, "if you hadn't gotten there when you did…"

"Well, let's just be grateful that I got there in time," Duck said quietly, "all that blood…"

"It's just...h-he could've killed _you…_ "

"But, he didn't."

"O-Oliver could've… _died_ …."

"But, he didn't," Duck said gently, tightening his arms around her, "everything's gonna be okay, Em...I promise. But, if something happens...we'll always have each other."

"And the boys," Emily said quietly, "but, yeah...we will always have each other."

Emily sighed deeply, closing her eyes.

"You're so warm."

"I know."

"Are you feeling okay? I don't think you should be putting off heat like this."

"I know, but don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

"I know."

A laugh came from behind them, and the two of them sprang apart. Oliver was sitting up in the bed, arms crossed, smirking.

"You two are cute."

"We _are not,"_ Duck said sharply. "You know that."

"Kidding, kidding. You're making me jealous, Em. Don't hug Duck in front of me."

Oliver laughed, his eyes falling shut as he relaxed.

Emily rolled her eyes as she walked over to give Oliver a hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay…" she said quietly.

Oliver smiled and hugged back.

"Thanks. I am, too."

Emily grinned and handed him one of the gift bags she'd brought along.

"Here, this is for you. Early Christmas present."

Oliver took the bag and took out all the green foil. His eyes went huge at the contents. There was a big, colorful glass box full of endless art supplies, such as paints and pastels, as well as some new sketchbooks. And, engraved into the glass, were the letters GWR, the number eleven, and Oliver's name.

"Emily, this is amazing!" Oliver said excitedly, pulling the gifts out. "They're _perfect._ Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Emily smiled.

She picked up the other gift bag, and handed it to Duck.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you."

Duck grinned as he pulled away all the foil and took out two leather bound and pretty thick books. One said, in big black letters:

 _Movies and Their Sets: The Complete Encyclopedia to the World of Video Arts_

And the other book, in big gold letters, it said:

 _The Complete Guide to North Western and Great Western Engines_

Duck's eyes went huge. The book about the engines was one he had wanted for a very long time but had been too expensive for his liking. The Video Arts book was another one he had been looking at for awhile, but actually planned on buying because the price was very reasonable.

"Emily…" Duck said quietly, looking at the cover of the guide to engines, "this is a one hundred dollar book...I can't accept this."

"Too bad, you have to," Emily said with a laugh, "and it wasn't one hundred dollars. I got it for a bargained price of twenty-five bucks. The bookstore was having a huge sale the other day, and I know you've had your eyes on that book since you moved out here. So I already got it while it was on sale, and there's an employee there who knows Oliver and when I said I knew him too, he marked the price off even more!"

"Who was the employee?" Oliver asked.

Emily looked up thoughtfully.

"I believe he said his name was Stepney."

Duck smiled, looking down at the books again.

"Well...this is very generous of you. Thanks a lot."

"You should've seen Thomas' face when he opened up what I gave him," Emily said, "I got him a new customized strap for his guitar and a novelty train set with real steam. I'm not kidding you, he cried. And then Percy cried because he was laughing so hard."

Duck and Oliver laughed. Typical Thomas.

"What'd you get everybody else?" Oliver asked, "have you always been this generous with your money?"

Emily blushed, hiding her face with her long hair.

"Oh, yeah she has," Duck grinned, "ever since I moved out here, I could always expect a great birthday or Christmas present from Emily. But, yeah, what did you get everybody else?"

"For Percy, I got him some fancy writing utensil set with real ink, and a leather journal with his name on it. For Edward, I got him a actual script to one of his favorite movies and a guide to screenwriting. And for James...I got him a bright pink hairbrush and some makeup."

Duck and Oliver burst into laughter, and Emily laughed right with them, leaning against the wall.

"That's genius," Duck said once he calmed down.

"I know," Emily grinned, "I still have some other things to give out, too, but I'll probably do that after break, because I don't know where everyone lives."

"That's a good idea," Oliver said, "I think you are officially the...sweetest, kindest...most generous girl I have ever met. Right, Duck?"

"That's right."

Emily blushed again as both boys hugged her at the same time. Emily giggled, hugging back as best as she could.

"Can you stay for awhile, Em?" Oliver asked.

Emily smiled and sat down in the chair Duck offered her.

"Of course."

It was dark out by the time Emily got up to leave, but was stopped by Oliver's nurse.

"I'm afraid all the roads and rails are shut down," she said, "it's gotten so dangerous to the point where police have ordered everybody to stay in their homes. All visitors will have to spend the night here."

Duck's eyes widened. His parents and Toad had left a few hours ago for home, before the snow got worse. Duck was planning on taking the train home, but he was stuck here, for now.

"Oh, that's okay," Emily said, standing up, "where do I go?"

The nurse smiled.

"We could bring cots in here for the two of you, if you want."

"Just bring one," Duck said, "she can sleep on the couch."

Duck and Emily both nodded, and the nurse smiled again before walking out.

"I'm gonna text my parents and let them know," Emily said, digging out her phone.

"Me, too," Duck said, getting out his own phone.

Emily quickly texted her mom, and got a quick response.

"She says okay and to be careful tomorrow."

Duck texted his mom, and the response he got surprised him.

 _Ok. Sleep well and be careful. And don't mess around with Oliver_

Duck stared at the text long and hard, shaking his head.

 _Mom. Not gonna happen. Relax._

 _I know. I just like teasing you._

Duck rolled his eyes and slid his phone back in his pocket.

"Well...my Mum said okay. Kind of."

Emily slipped off her boots and took off her socks.

"Good think I wore something I can sleep in," she said, "I could never sleep in what I usually wear."

"Well, I'll just have to deal with this for tonight," Duck said, looking down at what he was wearing.

The three of them all grinned at each other.

"Slumber party?" Emily smirked.

"Slumber party," the boys replied.

The nurse brought in the cot, smiled at the visitors and patient, and left quickly.

"Goodnight, kids. Rest well."

Duck shut the door behind her, but didn't lock it. Emily was making a bed on the little couch in the room.

"You could just sleep up here, Duck," Oliver said.

"No, not while you're recovering. I'll be fine...down here."

Oliver chuckled, adjusting himself as pain ran through the patched up wounds.

"If you say so. You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You'll get cold…"

"Then I'll put up with it."

"Duck."

"Oliver."

"Guys," Emily laughed, "stop it. If Duck wants to freeze on a cot instead of nice and warm in a bed with his boyfriend, then just let him."

Duck rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to freeze."

"If you say so," Oliver said casually.

Oliver hissed in pain suddenly, clutching at the now treated wound on his stomach. Duck rushed over and grabbed his hand, feeling alarmed.

"I-I'm fine…" Oliver smiled as best as he could, "just a little pain, don't worry…"

"But I don't want you to be in _any_ pain," Duck said desperately.

"I know," Oliver said quietly, "I know…"

Oliver sighed, closing his eyes.

"Duck..when's the trial?"

Duck felt himself stiffen up at the question. He wanted to lie. He wanted to tell Oliver that there would be no trial and that his father was going straight to prison, no questions asked. But he knew he couldn't.

"It's sometime next week."

Oliver's heart sped up immediately, causing the heart rate machine to go

crazy.

"Cinders and ashes, Ollie, calm down," Duck said softly, leaning down to kiss him, "Everything will be fine. I'll be there for you the entire time."

"Yeah, and so will I," Emily said gently, "and I'll bring the gang along, too. And we'll throw a big party when your father gets proven guilty."

Oliver smiled gratefully, heartbeat returning to its normal, brave pace.

"Thanks, guys."

Emily yawned, walking over to the couch.

"I'm going to bed. You guys should, too. We've all had a _very_ long day."

"Goodnight, Em," the boys chorused.

Emily smiled, pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes. In seconds, she was fast asleep.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep up here?" Oliver whispered.

"Positive," Duck whispered back as he took off his jacket and draped it around Oliver, who smiled warmly.

Duck walked over and gave his boyfriend and gentle, yet deep kiss.

"Good night, Ollie. Love you."

"Good night, Duck. Love you, too."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

For the first time in years, Oliver slept soundly.

No nightmares.

For the first time in a long time, he had a dreamless sleep. Oliver opened his eyes the next morning to see Emily and Duck talking quietly, not knowing yet that he was awake. It was no longer snowing outside, from what he could see. Despite the fact that he had slept great, Oliver still felt very tired. He had had days to recover, now. He was in a little pain, but he felt better.

What could possibly be the problem?

Duck turned to look at the bed and smiled.

"Good morning."

"Morning," Oliver replied, sitting up, "what time is it?"

"It's 11:30," Emily replied, "it's almost lunch time."

"No kidding? That's the latest I've ever slept."

"That's a good thing!" Duck exclaimed, "you need time to recover."

"I am recovered."

"No, you're not."

" _Yes,_ I am."

Duck frowned over at him, and Oliver frowned back.

"Oliver, _you are not."_

" _Yes, I am!"_

Surprisingly, the two glared angrily at each other.

"For your information, _Duck,_ I'm perfectly fine!" Oliver snapped, "how would _you_ know how I'm feeling?"

"I don't know how you're feeling," Duck snapped back, "but I _do_ know that you're smart enough to acknowledge the fact that you are _not fine!"_

"Why are you still here?" Oliver spat, looking away, "stop _pitying me!"_

"I don't pity you at all! I'm just worried about you!"

"Well, stop worrying!" Oliver growled, "can I not get any bloody peace and quiet? Why are you constantly hovering over me? It's bloody annoying!"

Oliver looked down at his lap, feeling angry for some reason.

 _What's wrong with me? Why am I being so mean to him?_

Duck looked down, feeling hurt at what he had said.

"I want to be here for you now...because I wasn't there all those years ago."

Oliver looked up in surprise.

Emily could quickly feel tension building up, so she jumped in.

"Stop it, you two. I know you're both upset, but that's no reason to be mean to each other. Duck, if he claims he's fine, just leave it. And Oliver, there's no reason to be so mean. Need I remind you, Duck's the one who saved your life."

Oliver looked over at Duck, feeling terrible. Emily was right.

He was being a total jerk.

"Oh, god," he whispered, curling into a ball, "I'm sorry, Duck…"

Two arms found their way around him and pulled him into a strong embrace.

"It's okay, I understand," Duck said gently, kissing his head, "I understand. I'm sorry, too."

Oliver smiled gratefully, nuzzling into his chest as Emily smiled at the sight. She stood up and zipped up her jacket. She walked over and hugged the two of them.

"Well, guys, I need to head home. The roads are cleared up now and my parents want me back at the house."

"Okay," Oliver smiled, "bye, Emily. Have a nice break."

"You, too," Emily replied, walking to the door, "see you, Duck."

"See you later, Em."

The door closed behind her as she left, and her steps echoed through the hall. Oliver leaned his head against Duck's shoulder, sighing deeply. Duck brought an arm around him, pulling him closer.

"Now what?"

"I'm sorry."

Duck looked at him.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry," Oliver said quietly, "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I know. That's why I forgave you a minute ago," Duck replied, "relax. It's no big deal."

Oliver finally forgave himself, wrapping his hand around Duck's arm.

"Hand me my sketchbook, will you?"

"Sheesh, tired of me already?" Duck joked as he handed the book to him.

Oliver laughed.

"Have been for years."

"Why, you little-"

Oliver laughed again, nuzzling further into the other's shoulder.

"Relax," he said as he flipped open the sketchbook, "the twins aren't the only one who like to mess with you, you quack."

"Oh, gee, thanks."

The two of them smiled at each other as Oliver flipped to a certain page. It was a drawing of Edward, Donald and Douglas. They appeared to be in the cafeteria. Donald and Douglas were standing and yelling at each other, while, Edward, who was sitting at the table, had one cheek resting in his palm, with the most bored expression ever. The picture was titled _The Twins Fight._

Duck cocked his head.

"Did that happen while I was suspended?"

"No, that's the weird part," Oliver replied, "Percy told me about a fight the twins had a few years ago. They didn't talk for days, apparently. They got into an argument in the cafeteria, and Edward was completely bored by the whole thing."

Duck shrugged.

"Edward has never been into that kind of thing. Or Percy. Or Thomas. Or Emily. Or Ryan…"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Oliver said, waving him off as he shut the sketchbook.

He looked longingly up at Duck, eyes wide and sad.

"Duck...what am I gonna do?"

Duck looked down at him again, puzzled.

"About what?"

"Everything," Oliver said quietly, "my education. Medical bills. My dad going to prison. Toad. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do?"

He looked down, squeezing Duck's hand.

"With Dad in prison, how are we gonna live? How am I still going to take care of Toad? How am I going to stay in school? And how am I going to pay for what he did to me?"

Duck felt a rush of anger, but it quickly faded away. He gave Oliver a soft kiss on the cheek.

"You let me worry about the hospital bills. I'll take care of everything."

"You can't take care of _everything,"_ Oliver whispered, "I don't think you understand."

"Maybe I don't. Can you tell me?"

Oliver went dead silent for a second. Then, shaking, he reopened his sketchbook and took out a piece of folded up paper he had hidden in a little pocket behind the cover. He stared at it, tears of both anger and sadness burning in his eyes. He handed the paper to Duck, who took it in confusion.

"Open it," Oliver whispered, covering his eyes, "I can't look…"

Trembling, Duck unfolded the paper. He smoothed it out and his hands flew to his mouth. It was a drawing of a woman, looking in her early thirties, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs in a pool of blood. Her eyes were wide open, but weren't seeing anything. And, standing there next to her was a young Oliver, who was bawling his eyes out. There was a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs, but Duck couldn't make out who it was, but he _did_ recognize the woman.

Unlike the rest of Oliver's drawings, this one was different.

It was a _sad_ drawing, for one thing.

And, unlike the other masterpieces...this one had _color._

Duck's eyes started to blur and he quickly folded the thing up. He shoved it back behind the cover. He looked at his boyfriend, who was shaking like a leaf.

"Oliver…oh my god...holy...that was…"

Oliver nodded, tears pouring.

"My Mum...s-she's dead, Duck…"

" _For how long?!"_

"N-Not long after you left…"

"Oh, my god…" Duck whispered harshly.

He had loved Oliver's mom like a second mother. She'd cared so much for him back on the Great Western. And now she was... _gone?_ But…

" _How?"_

Oliver burst into tears, sobbing loudly into his hands. Duck pulled him into his side, and Oliver proceeded to cry on his shoulder.

"T-That bastard!" Oliver wailed, "h-he…

 _h-he_ _killed her! I-I saw him do it! He-He was drunk and he p-pushed her down the stairs!"_

He paused in attempt to gather himself.

"Is that what killed her?" Duck whispered.

Oliver nodded his head.

"H-Her head started to bleed...I-I was so scared...s-she told me everything would be o-okay...and she d-died...right there."

Duck suddenly noticed some splotches of red along the paper, and it was a little darker than the shade of red Oliver had used in the drawing.

"Oliver...is that...oh, god...oh, god _please_ tell me that isn't…"

Oliver nodded weakly.

"After she died...I went right upstairs to draw this...I-I still had her blood all over my hands from her head...and some o-of it…"

Oliver felt more tears pour down and for the first time in six years, he was allowed to let them fall like they always wanted.

"D-Dad was trying to h-hit me. I-I was at the top of the stairs, and M-Mum refused to move away from me...s-she was trying to protect me, and w-when she didn't move, he _pushed her!"_

Duck couldn't believe what he was hearing.

His boyfriend was the son of a psycho.

A abuser.

A _killer._

"S-She hit her head…" Oliver whispered, "s-so much blood...and D-Dad said if I ever told _anybody_ that he would k-kill Toad!"

Oliver began to choke on his words.

"T-The police came by...D-Dad was a g-great actor...he pretended to be so sad and the p-police claimed it as an accident...t-that she tripped and fell! _I-I wouldn't be in this hospital if I had just told them the truth! Now she's dead! And for six years, I felt dead, too!"_

Oliver buried his face in Duck's neck as he started crying harder.

"Duck...what am I gonna do? I'm technically an _orphan! Where am I gonna live? How will I take care of Toad?"_

Oliver sat up in alarm.

" _What if they take Toad away?!"_

"I-I won't let them, I swear to God," Duck said fiercely, squeezing him to death, "everything will be okay. Y-You can stay with us and you can live in my room. We'll go to school together and I'll protect you and you'll never get hurt again. We'll get custody over you and Toad. You'll get to watch him grow up, I-I promise. We'll prove that bastard guilty and get him life in prison or put on death row. I swear to god, Ollie... _I'd do anything for you because you are my everything."_

Oliver sniffled, starting to calm down. His breathing returned to normal, and he relaxed.

"And you drew that," Duck muttered, "why?"

Oliver sighed, tears disappearing.

"Because I only draw the things that I'll never forget."

Duck looked down at the floor, head spinning with thoughts.

"So, you drew that because you'll never forget...but why do you want to remember?"

Things were silent in the room for a minute.

"Because I don't want to remember what happened to her," Oliver whispered, "but I'll never forget how much she loved me. That's why I drew that. She died trying to protect me...and I'll always remember that."

Oliver pulled back his sleeve to reveal the watch he wore the day he and Duck reunited in the bookstore.

"Do you recognize this watch, Duck?"

Duck narrowed his eyes.

"It looks familiar…"

"It was Mum's," Oliver said softly, "she wore it everyday. She was wearing it the day she was killed. So I took it off her and put it on my own wrist, and I've worn it every single day since then. It always makes it feel like she's with me, you know?"

Duck shook his head in disbelief.

"How long after I left was she...uh…"

"About a month."

"...Do you miss her?"

Oliver looked down at his watch.

"...Everyday."

"Cinders and ashes, Ollie...why the bloody hell didn't you get in touch with me?"

"Because, Toad didn't deserve to die," Oliver said quietly, "I wasn't going to let him be killed. You were gone and safe, so that gave me one less person to worry about. With you gone, I knew he couldn't get to you."

Duck felt lightheaded at his words.

"I should've killed him that night," he suddenly snapped, "he needed to die like he deserves."

Oliver smiled weakly.

"You're too young to kill someone."

Duck looked down at him in surprise.

"Oh, and like you weren't too young all those years ago when he started hurting you?"

Oliver's body went rigid, and Duck's eyes went huge.

"Oh, god, Ollie, bloody hell, I didn't mean it like that! I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, you didn't mean to," Oliver said lightly, "in a way...you weren't wrong."

Duck's heart plummeted.

 _Damn it,_ he thought, _damn it, indeed._

The two of them were silent, not knowing what to say to each other.

"Duck?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad he didn't kill me. If it wasn't for you, I never would've made it."

"Oliver, don't-"

"Everyday, after you left, you were all I thought about. And thinking about you kept me going, it made me happy. Even though you weren't there anymore...you were always there in my head, and you made me happy. You gave me reasons to carry on and to be brave and be strong and caring. You gave me so many things…"

Oliver looked up at Duck, green eyes gleaming with love and gratitude.

"...Things that made me happy to be alive."

Duck smiled gently, hugging him close.

"You've given me reasons, too. More than I can count. We've just made each other better people."

"Were still kids, Duck. We've got a lot more to learn. We've got plenty more coming."

"I know, but I'll be happy as long as we can learn together."

Oliver smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

"So will I."

"Love you, Ollie."

"Love you, too, Duck."

"...Ollie, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Earlier...when the detectives were in here, and they asked you if you knew why your Dad hit you...you hesitated."

Oliver's eyes flickered.

"You do know why...don't you?"

Taking a deep breath, Oliver gulped back the lump in his throat.

"...Yes."

"Why didn't you tell the truth?"

"Because it hurts, Duck...but, I'm gonna tell the truth at the trial, so, please let it go for now."

Duck kissed his cheek.

"Okay, Ollie."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the two little great westerns," said a voice.

The boys looked up. Standing there in the doorway was Thomas and Percy, and standing behind them was James, Edward and the twins.

"Guys?" Oliver asked, sitting up, "what're you all doing here?"

"To see you, of course!" Percy cried, launching forward to hug him, "we were so worried about you!"

Oliver smiled and hugged back.

"Well, I'm okay, now. Duck got me out of there just in time. He saved my life."

Duck smiled bashfully as Percy hugged him, too. Thomas walked over to them, followed closely by the others, and they all sat down to talk. Percy sat down next to Thomas, who he immediately cuddled up to. James brought his arm around Edward, who leaned into him. The twins linked arms, and Oliver clasped hands with Duck, leaning into him.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us what was going on?" James asked, eyes huge, "my god, we could've helped you."

"I've said this before and I'll say it again: going through six years of pain was well worth it if you lot and Toad were all safe."

"Yer out of yer mind," Douglas cut in, "ye cannae deal with it on your own. That's why we lot is here, lad. To help ye with yer problems, and ye had quite the problem if ye ask me."

"It wasn't anybody's problem, though," Oliver said quietly, "he was my burden to bare."

"Oliver, I may not be the smartest in the group," Percy said slowly, eyes huge, "but I _am_ smart enough to know how stupid that sounds."

Oliver sighed deeply.

"You're right, I guess. But I didn't want Toad or Duck to die. I didn't want anybody to die."

"You should've come to us," Thomas said gently, "we could've helped you. We may all be different in our own ways, but that's why we're friends. And we'll always be there for you."

Oliver smiled, sitting up.

"That's sweet, Thomas. Really. Thank you, but I'd prefer to have my friends alive rather than buried on a hill somewhere."

They all laughed at this.

"So, when do they let you out of here?" Edward asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Tomorrow."

"And when is the trial?"

"Next week."

"I'll be there."

"Me, too!"

"Aye, so will we."

"So will I."

"I'll see you there."

"Count me in."

Oliver smiled brightly, glad to have friends that would be there for him, even if he just went through hell and back.

"Yon Duck, are ye still runnin' that fever?" Asked Donald.

Duck shook his head. He felt perfectly fine, honest.

"No, I think I'm all better. I guess having something to distract me made me forget all about it."

"Aye, good."

"So, Ollie, how long is your father going to prison?" James asked, tightening his arm around Edward.

"I-I don't know…"

"For eternity, hopefully," Duck muttered.

Oliver sighed dramatically to his friends.

"Yeah, Duck's been quacking about this for days."

"Hey, I'd be flattered," Edward grinned, "James never worries about me."

"Well, yeah, he's James."

"And Duck is Duck," Edward smirked, "I thought Great Westerns didn't worry. According to him, anyway. I guess his precious little Ollie is just an acception."

Duck looked down, cheeks glowing like lava. Oliver giggled.

"I'm starting to think Percy is the only sane one in this room."

"He probably is," Donald said, "he hangs aroond yon Thomas all the time, though, so ah don't know how he still is."

"HEY!"

"I'm only pullin' yer leg, _Tommy."_

Thomas turned redder than Duck, while Percy just laughed at his boyfriend's expense.

"Oh, yeah?" Thomas shot back to Donald, "well, at least people can actually understand my accent!"

"At least ahm not the one in band, ye bloody nerd!"

"At least I have a whole collection of expensive novelty engines!"

"At least I have an actual engine!"

"At least my passion will get me somewhere in life!"

"At least my jacket doesn't match my father's engine!"

"At least I don't wear a skirt!"

"It's a kilt!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"IS NOT!"

"IS TOO!"

"Guys, shut up!" James yelled, "stop roasting each other. Which, by the way, Thomas, you suck at."

"OHHHHHHH!" The twins chorused, "BUUUURRNNNEEEEEDDDDD!"

Thomas rolled his blue eyes, but smiled.

"Like you're any better, _Jamie."_

"Shut up, _Tommy! Eddie,_ make him stop!"

"Yer such a lass," the twins said together.

"I am not!"

"Ye are too!"

Duck and Percy stared longingly at each other while Thomas and James were still yelling at one another. Percy casually examined his jacket.

"Thomas, if you don't stop you'll never kiss me again."

That shut him up immediately.

"Nice job, Perce" Oliver complimented.

"Thanks. How do you shut Duck up?"

"That's easy. I either threaten the Great Western, or threaten the name of the City of Truro."

Percy giggled.

"You're cute, Ollie."

"So are you!"

The two grinned at each other, while Thomas and Duck shared secret glares.

 _You keep his mouth shut if you know what's good for you,_ their eyes said.

The boys were all there for a few more hours. Edward and James were the first to leave, Donald and Douglas following after them about an hour later. Percy had fallen asleep on Thomas' shoulder, and Thomas had gently shook him awake. The two walked out together, not long after the twins. Oliver later fell asleep , and soon enough, Duck found himself getting up to leave, too. He longed to get back home, even though he hated leaving Oliver. But, he hadn't been home in two days. Toad was probably lonely.

" _I'll come back. I promise."_

Duck was walking down the sidewalk in the snow, music blasting. It was still snowing lightly, and he was getting cold. If he knew it would've been this cold, he would have worn warmer clothes. He was on his way to the train station, which, luckily, wasn't too far from the hospital. He would've asked Thomas for a ride, but didn't want him to make the extra trip. The roads were still pretty bad. Duck pressed the volume button on his phone and kept walking, keeping his steps in time with the beat. Suddenly, a little silver Jeep pulled up by the sidewalk, honking. Duck froze in his steps, not recognizing the car, and he couldn't see who was inside it. The windows were tinted. For a minute, Duck considered running, and was just about to when the driver side door opened and somebody walked around the hood.

"Hey, Duck! What're you doing out in this weather?"

Duck sighed in relief, heart going back to its normal beat.

"Cinders and ashes, BoCo, don't scare me like that."

BoCo crossed his arms to keep warm.

"What, did you think I was some kidnapper or something?"

"Sort of. Did you get a new car? I've never seen this one before."

BoCo shook his head as he opened the passenger side door.

"No, it's my Dad's. Daisy invited me over to her house and he told me to take his car. It's great in the snow."

He started to walk back to the driver side door.

"Here, get in. I'll take you home."

Duck grabbed onto the door frame so he wouldn't slip, and shut the car door as he got in. He was engulfed in heat.

"Good heating system, huh?" BoCo said proudly, patting the dashboard, "four wheel drive, wireless, automatic defrosters...pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah," Duck agreed quietly, "it's exactly the car I'm looking for."

BoCo cocked his head as he pulled out into the road.

"You don't have a car?"

"Nope. Don't need one."

"I beg to differ."

"So do I."

BoCo laughed, Duck laughing with him.

"You have a license, yet no car."

"Nope."

BoCo shook his head.

"Logical, Duck," he said sarcastically.

"I know, thanks."

There was no noise for a minute, except for the gentle hum of the engine.

"So," BoCo said, "this is us outside of Video Arts."

"I know, it's weird...by the way, I'm sorry I got suspended. I hope I didn't make the project fall behind."

BoCo snorted, waving him off.

"Yeah, yeah, that. Nobody fell behind, the project is perfectly on track. Punching Diesel...I'm bloody proud of you."

He grinned.

"I'm proud to be your Director."

Duck chuckled.

"You're not my Director. I'm just the head of the Sound and Lights."

BoCo turned to him briefly.

"You're _so much more_ than just the Sound and the Lights, Duck."

"And you're so much more than just the Director."

BoCo flicked on the turn signal as he steered the car down a different road. He had been to Duck's house before, so he knew the way. The road was empty, and the wipers swished across the windshield.

"How's Oliver?" BoCo asked a minute later.

"He's feeling pretty bad, but he's getting better. I can tell. He liked your note, by the way."

"Good, I'm glad. When's he being released?"

"Tomorrow, and the trial is next week."

BoCo's hands tightened on the steering wheel, not even imagining how Oliver must have been feeling about that.

"I'll bet he's terrified."

"He is. I am, too."

"You are? Why?"

Duck's form stiffened. How had word not gotten around about what he did yet?

Oliver knew.

Emily knew.

Percy knew.

Thomas knew.

Edward knew.

James knew.

The twins knew.

Even Sir Topham Hatt knew.

So _how_ had word not gotten out?

"Because I'm afraid my Dad will get in big trouble and I'll end up in Juvenile Hall."

BoCo's eyes widened like dinner plates.

"What the bloody hell for?!"

"How in the hell have you not heard about this?" Duck muttered.

"Duck, god, just tell me! What the hell have you done?"

Duck sighed deeply, eyes closed.

"BoCo, I shot somebody."

Surprisingly, BoCo laughed.

"Yeah, like you would ever do that. Good one, Duck. I find that really hard to believe."

" _BoCo_ ," Duck growled, _"I'm. Not. Freaking. Kidding_."

BoCo slammed on the brakes, and the tires screeched. Duck was thrown into the dash.

"BoCo! What the he-"

" _You. Shot. Somebody?!"_

"Yeah…h-he's okay, though!"

" _Duck!"_

"BoCo, calm down! He'll live!"

"Who the bloody hell did you shoot?! And where did you get a gun?!

"I shot Oliver's father. He deserved it. And my Dad gave me a gun."

" _Duck."_

"What?" Duck snapped, not feeling at all like his normal self, "he hit Oliver for six years! The bastard threatened to kill him and his brother over and over! He had a gun pointed at me, he already used one on Oliver, so I used one on _him_! It was _self defense! I was scared!"_

" _Duck…"_

"Damn it, BoCo, I should've killed him!"

" _Duck!"_

"All that blood, Oliver could've _died,_ Dad could get _arrested,_ I could go to _prison,_ Toad could get _taken away-"_

" _DUCK!"_

" _WHAT?!"_

BoCo could truly see how scared and stressed out his friend was. BoCo put the car in park, and tuned to the other teen. Duck was looking down, breathing heavily.

"Duck," BoCo said sternly, grabbing his shoulders, "calm down."

"But, I-" Duck was cut off by BoCo's glare, "okay."

Duck nodded slowly, trying to calm his breathing. Boco's grip tightened protectively.

"Duck, I _swear to you,_ you will _not_ go to prison. I'll get the whole school and The Fat Controller in on it if I have to, but I will _not_ let them take you away."

Duck looked up, eyes shining with gratitude.

"Thanks, BoCo."

BoCo smiled.

"You're welcome."

He put the car back in drive, and they continued on in silence.

"By the way, the Fat Controller is already in on it."

"I'm not surprised."

BoCo stopped at the front of Duck's house, applying the brakes gently. Duck stepped out, being careful not to slip on ice.

"See you later, BoCo...and thank you."

"Anytime, old friend."

"Be careful. The roads are bloody dangerous out there."

"I will."

Duck shut the door, and BoCo set off cautiously down the road.


End file.
